Beautiful Scars
by LadyExcalibur2010
Summary: A homeless shelter in Jacksonville. Edward's a scruffy, closed-off Adonis. Bella's a bossy ball-buster who is scarred inside and out. When they meet? Sparks!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_Author's Note: I promise that, though things might seem confusing now, all of it DOES tie together. Swear. Pinky swear. Also, I decided to go with what I know, so this is set in Jacksonville, Florida (which happily also happens to be part of Ms. Meyers Twilight 'verse). I've spent approximately 25 years of my life here, having just moved back after spending 15 years moving around the country (12 moves in 15 years). So, for the most part, places are real. The Hope is not, though there are several worthy establishments in the city that provide the same services. Also, I tend to juggle several stories at the same time. That's just how I write. I write a story when the muse prods me, and since she's all over the map, I write various stories at the same time. I read books the same way – three or four at a time. Thank you for your patience, LOL!_

**Beautiful Scars**

"_Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones." ~Mignon McLaughlin_

_**Prologue**_

The first thing she remembered was waking up and seeing the white. White. White. It hurt her eyes. It surrounded her, reached for her, gouging into her brain, making her body throb and ache. The white… She sensed that some realization waited for her in the white, but she turned away from it, resolute and determined. It would be too painful. She was not ready.

From far away she heard screaming. And then she realized it was her.

**Chapter 1: Do Bad Things with You**

_**Bella's POV**_

I sighed as I brushed my hair and considered the day ahead of me. I was starting a new job today, a much needed new job. Hopefully I would be able to make the bills out of my paycheck and could keep the tiny little nest egg, painfully and slowly tucked away one paycheck at a time, intact. _Here's to hope_, a small voice inside my head mocked. Then I smiled because at least I knew I'd like my job. It suited me, though the hours would be long, the pay pretty much sucked, and my office was the size of a closet (and not a walk-in). I needed the money, for sure. I needed a job, obviously. But most of all I needed a change. And that's why I was here.

Still, at least I would feel like I was making a difference, doing something worthwhile with my time and energy and I was pretty sure that the small paycheck was a good trade for feeling like that. Besides, my needs and tastes were simple. I had a lovely little apartment in the Riverside area. It was an old house renovated into four apartments; mine was the smallest but boasted a bay window with a window seat that was perfect for reading.

I sighed, wondering what Charlie was up to, and knowing I should call him tonight. He'd want to know how my first day of work had gone. And my mother… I'd have to call her too or she'd end up on my doorstep and that was _not_ a habit I wanted to start. My mother was much easier to love when there was still some distance between us – and in small doses. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, laced up my short boots, and applied a bit of mascara. There. Beauty routine accomplished, I thought with a snort. There were benefits to not caring what I looked like. I shrugged, threw on a lightweight cotton hoodie and locked the door behind me – ready to start a new life. And this was the start, the very first day of a brand new life.

I could only hope it would be better than the last one.

Mrs. Riley was waiting for me with a big smile on her face. "Bella," she said. "We're so happy to have you join the team."

"I'm glad to be here, Mrs. Riley." The team was the staff of the Hope and Helping Hands Shelter, a place for the homeless and hungry to find shelter and nourishment. There were three of us on the paid staff, Mrs. Riley, Mr. Ortega, and myself. I was the newest addition, the low man on the totem pole, so to speak. There were dozens of volunteers, however, and I had yet to meet but a handful of them. As Mrs. Riley had warned me, the volunteer roster tended to change quickly and often. The work here was grueling, often discouraging, and never seemed to end. And it seemed there was a never ending supply in Jacksonville of those who needed what we offered at the shelter. It was here that I hoped to build a new life.

"Now," Mrs. Riley said. "The first thing is that we can't have you calling me Mrs. Riley." She laughed. "We're an informal group here. We work hard and we work together, so everyone's friendly. You prefer Bella, right?"

I nodded, grateful that she seemed to accept me with open arms. She had not hired me, and in fact had only met me after the fact. I had been apprehensive that it could cause problems. So far, so good. She seemed genuinely enthusiastic about my arrival.

"All right then, you must call me Marion." She pointed to the kitchen were I could see Mr. Ortega supervising the cooking of the morning meal. "And he's Raul."

"Got it," I said with a grin.

"I know you've been given a tour, but of course our residents have changed since then and I want to start introducing you around." We passed a young girl in the hallway, and Marion stopped for a moment to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears and compliment her on her new shoes. The girl beamed at Marion, who was obviously a very hands-on administrator. There was no room for prima donnas in The Hope, as it was commonly called. "Chasey, this is Bella," Marion said. "She'll be working here."

Chasey shot me a shy smile and a quick wave and then ran down the hallway toward the dorm for women and children. Marion watched her leave and gave a sad shake of her head. "Chasey's mom just left her abusive boyfriend." She leaned in close. "Again. We're hoping to convince her to stay this time, and then get her settled into a women's shelter, preferably out the city, maybe even the state."

Sadly, I knew that this was a common story in The Hope. "Just remember, a lot of our residents aren't very open with newcomers. Don't let it get you down. They'll figure out you're on their side and they'll start coming around."

"I know it'll be a process," I said. My job title was Community Liaison, which was really just a fancy term for the person who would be responsible for tracking down available services, resources, and programs for the appropriate residents. As Marion had said during my first meeting with her, I would have to learn to bully the community into providing what was needed. I was looking forward to it. I needed something toward which I could channel all of my frustration and rage. At least here it would serve a purpose, as long as I kept it all carefully controlled.

"We've got volunteers of course, The Hope couldn't run without them," Marion said. "Unfortunately, sometimes we run into a bit of a problem. Our location is perfect for those who need us, but occasionally there are those who are afraid to come to this side of town." Marion rolled her eyes. It was true that Pearl Street was not anywhere near a higher income area. Public housing and small, mom-n-pop business, as well as older homes, some in a state of significant disrepair, surrounded us. A few blocks away, Shands Hospital provided the bulk of medical care for those who came to and lived near The Hope. It was not a glamorous area, but the people here needed the shelter and the services we provided.

Marion approached a small group of women. "Ladies, this is Bella Swan," she introduced me. "She's our new Community Liaison."

"So you're the new ball buster, huh?" an older woman said.

"That's what they tell me," I replied with a grin. "But actually, I consider myself more of a ball _squeezer_, they're no good if you bust them to pieces," I went on. "And if I squeeze just right, then they start opening those tight wallets of theirs."

The women started roaring with laughter and Marion gave me a quick smile of approval. "I can see they made the right choice when they hired you," she murmured.

I heard a choked laugh behind me and whirled around to see…a god. A _sex_ god. A sex god that made me think of dirty, naughty things. He had bright green eyes that were alight with laughter. He had long brown hair that was perfectly messy and just brushed his shoulders with surprising hints of copper that glinted under the horrible fluorescent lights, and a jaw line that made me want to lick him. Literally. He was wearing dark button-fly jeans that hung low on his hips and a grey Henley. Briefly, I wondered if his feet would be as long and elegant as his hands. I had a thing for nice feet. In fact, I was pretty sure I had a thing for _him_. My mouth felt dry, but other parts of me… Stop it. Suddenly, the theme song from True Blood drifted through my thoughts. _I want to do bad things with you…_

Oh shit.

The sex god had heard me talking about squeezing balls. And I was suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity, wondering what he was hiding behind that button-fly. It was inevitable I suppose. Fuck. I just looked.

Fuckity, fuck. He had just _caught_ me looking. At his package.

I really, really hope I didn't drool. Or lick my lips. Or pant. Yeah, panting would definitely be bad.

_I want to do really bad things with you… Naughty things…possibly illegal things…they might involve handcuffs and blind folds, too…I'm not averse to some spanking either – you spanking me, me spanking you, I'm open to suggestions…Can I keep you?_

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss Swan." He _winked_ at me. The fucker. And then he walked away.

I have to admit that the view going was just as good as the view coming.

Shit. I just thought of coming.

Damn the sex god and his mind-altering powers of attractiveness.

Thank heavens he couldn't read minds.


	2. Chapter 2: Still Unbroken

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 2: Still Unbroken**

"I'm not home, I'm not lost  
Still holdin' on to what I got  
ain't much left  
Lord there's so much that's been stolen.  
Guess I've lost everything I've had  
But I'm not dead, at least not yet  
Still alive, still alone, still unbroken  
I'm still alone, still alive,  
I'm still unbroken." Still Unbroken by Lynyrd Skynyrd "God and Guns" album

_**Edward's POV**_

I had seen her walk in. I knew who she was, of course. Everyone had been expecting her, had been talking about her non-stop for days. I was only vaguely curious. We were used to new faces around The Hope. The burn out rate was almost as high among the staff as among the volunteers. It was a rough, demanding way to spend your day…and infinitely rewarding. I wondered if this Ms. Swan would understand that truth – and if she'd be tough enough to last.

Raul had said she was pretty (once I actually got a look at her I knew that Raul obviously needed to get his eyes checked, she was _gorgeous_), but that she seemed sad beneath the surface. I didn't doubt his assessment. "She's been…I don't know…there's been something bad, dude. Just be nice, okay?" I had rolled my eyes at him. I knew about broken of course. I had a long history with the concept. Still, Raul was a nice guy and if he said to be nice, I'd be on my best, Boy Scout behavior. Besides, Raul had a rare insight and instinct for people. I considered myself lucky that he respected my privacy and had, so far, refrained from pressing for information. He seemed to know that there were some things that were strictly off limits. So, I was going to be every bit the gentleman my mother had raised me to be.

Of course, that had been my intent before I actually _saw_ her.

I saw her in the hallway with Marion and was walking forward to introduce myself. She had that shy, sweet look about her, almost like a kid sister (sure, Cullen – a little sister…keep telling yourself that) I was wondering if she really had what it took to be the shelter's Community Liaison. It was a tough job, and she'd have to learn to never take no for an answer, not a final one anyway. Our people needed all of us to be tough and resilient. We were, for all intents and purposes, their last resort, their safety net – and if we failed, they fell. I tried to never forget that.

I heard her voice for the first time, and it was soft and sweet and just a little bit husky, all right, just as the packaging promised. The words, however… I knew I was in deep shit with this one.

"That's what they tell me," I heard her say. "But actually, I consider myself more of a ball _squeezer, _they're no good if you bust them to pieces. And if I squeeze just right, then they start opening those tight wallets of theirs."

I couldn't help but give a little bark of laughter. It wasn't her words so much, which were admittedly funny as hell, but the fact that I had been worried she'd be too shy and retiring to do her job. My doubts were laid to rest. She whirled around and her face turned a blistering red. I could almost feel the heat radiating off of her. It was like being on the beach, letting the sun warm me from the outside in.

Then her eyes drifted down. Really down. Well, she _had_ been talking about squeezing balls, so I guess it was only natural that her eyes should go _there_. What was not expected was that I'd start to feel a stir in that general vicinity in response to her look. _Down boy_.

I smirked at her and the flames in her face ignited further. I was being a bit of an ass, but I just couldn't help myself. Because I knew… Better to come off as an ass than let her think I was a nice guy. I didn't know much about Bella Swan, but I knew she deserved better than what I had to offer.

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss Swan."

Then I winked at her, almost against my own will, and I thought her jaw was going to drop to the floor. She gulped loudly and was probably trying very hard not to slap me across the face like I deserved. Before I could say or do anything else I'd regret, I turned and walked away.

This was not good. Not good at all.

_Houston, we have a problem_.

_**Bella's POV**_

Marion nudged me. "So…you've met the mysterious and gorgeous Mr. Cullen." She snorted and I wondered if she wanted to do bad things with him too. She might be a grandmother, but the sex god was… Well, even grandmothers couldn't miss the hotness factor. Anyone attracted to males would want to worship at his altar, on their knees and thrilled to be there.

"Uh…yeah," I returned with my usual brilliance.

"Don't worry, dear," she said with a small laugh. "He's got that effect on a lot of us."

I blushed furiously. "Yes, well…" What could I possibly say? That his voice reminded me of silk and smoke and I wanted to offer to have his baby? That he could recite a grocery list to me and I'd be tempted to shed my clothing while he did so? Yeah, to say those things might be a tad less than professional. "So, why is he the _mysterious_ Mr. Cullen?"

Marion winked. "Well, he's gorgeous…obviously." I wanted to snort. Yes, that much was incredibly obvious. "He doesn't work, not for a paycheck anyway. At least not that any of us can figure out. Yet he's always got enough money. At first, I was afraid he was a drug dealer or something, but if he is, he's never conducted business on the premises."

"You don't really think he's a drug dealer, do you?" Of course that would make sense. No man was that perfect. He had to be a drug dealer, or perhaps a pimp, or maybe he – My overactive imagination was going to be the death of me. I put a brake on the more bizarre fantasies. But not before I felt my cheeks flush. Oh naughty fantasies…

"Oh no," Marion said. "Not anymore. Once you get to know Edward you'll see. He's friendly enough, but not…chummy. He's been one of our most consistent volunteers for two years now. You'll be seeing a lot of him."

I wasn't sure if that made me want to throw up or dance the happy dance. Probably both. Then Marion was saying something else, but I got distracted by wondering if, when you knelt before the sex god, you could unbutton that button fly and see what was waiting behind door #1. Wait, what was Marion saying? It was probably important.

Luckily, she laughed and patted me on the arm. "Again, he has that effect on most women." She leaned in close. "We call it the shock and awe campaign of Edward Cullen."

Of course I knew what she meant. I was shocked at the way I imagined kneeling at his feet. Those buttons… I'd make quick work of them. I closed my eyes briefly. I was in awe over what I imagined hiding behind those buttons. My libido was in overdrive, which probably was not surprising since it had been well over a year since I had let my libido out to play. At all. Even solitary play had been called on account of… Well, it had been called on account of life being shitty and the fact that I was a terrible person and a danger to those who were stupid enough to love me.

The white came back to me in a flash, that blinding burst of nothingness and suddenly my overactive sex drive was tucked back where it belonged, in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. I had no right to those kinds of feelings. No right at all.

I opened my eyes to see Marion studying me with concern. "Are you all right, dear?"

I forced a convincing smile on my face. I had gotten really good at it over the past year. I was a pro at faking serenity by now. "I'm fine," I said. "It's just a lot to take in all at once and I'm scared to death that I'm going to forget something vitally important at exactly the wrong moment."

Marion winked. "That's why we're a team, Bella. Someone is always there to pick up the slack."

_**Edward's POV**_

I hid in the bathroom. Then I hid in the kitchen pantry. I pretended I was doing an inventory of the food. I avoided anywhere that Isabella Swan was. I was a chicken shit. I was all right with that, because there was something about her that made me want to press her up against a wall and show her that she was mine.

What the hell was wrong with me and why was I suddenly channeling my inner caveman?

_**Bella's POV**_

The rest of the day went more smoothly. I wasn't sure if the sex god was avoiding _me_, or I was avoiding _him_, but the result was the same. I was grateful, of course, that I did not have to acclimate myself to a new job, a new life for that matter, while trying to ignore the tingle in my girly parts. No, what really bothered me was that the tingle was there at all. I had been quite certain that was a part of my life that I had left behind forever. I had been arrogantly sure of that for several reasons, not the least of which was the knowledge that I no longer_ deserved_ to feel such things. No one knew that better than me. Well, perhaps one person did…

Still, _I knew_, and that was enough.

I also knew that the only way I would survive working here, in such close proximity to the sex god with the long, sexy, coppery hair was to ignore him_ and_ the tingle. It just didn't seem fair, though, that the sex god would be packaged in such a way as to ensure my attention. First, there was the hair. I'd always had a thing for guys with long hair. And his was just the right length, brushing his shoulders, with a lovely wave to it (and just a hint of the curl it would have if it was cut shorter). It looked soft and tuggable. Stop. _Do bad things with you_… God, I was a perv. Then the jaw. Fuck me, the jaw. It looked like something a Renaissance master might have carved. But even next to the jaw, those lips were divine. Perfectly sculpted… Apparently, the sex god brought out my inner art enthusiast.

Even beyond the angel's face, there was the body. Oh fuck me, the _body_. Long and lean, the lines of his arms and abs had been perfectly outlined by the tight fit of the Henley. The few buttons left undone on the shirt had revealed a smattering of light brown chest hair. He wasn't a Wookiee by any means, but had just enough hair to be masculine. Edward Cullen was no pretty boy. He was rugged and masculine. He was also tanned, a light golden color that seemed natural to him, though I imagined living in Florida meant a lot of time in the sun. I imagined how nicely his lean, hard, golden body would contrast against my softer, paler flesh.

Focus, Bella…

Budget reports, contributor lists, upcoming charity functions, happy trail…

_Danger! Danger Will Robinson!_

I sighed and forced my attention to the reports on my desk. Then I heard "the voice" of smoke and silk and I wondered if I should start bringing a change of underwear to work. I looked up to see him calling out a farewell to Marion. Then his eyes slid toward my office.

And I'm pretty sure he cupped his balls protectively on purpose. I swear I saw a smirk. I wanted to smack it off his face. Or maybe kiss it off. Or bite it. Oh yes, that had possibilities... Still, that smirk really pissed me off.

Ass.


	3. Chapter 3: Call Me the Breeze

I

**Chapter 3: Call Me the Breeze**

"_Call me the breeze  
_

_I keep blowin' down the road  
_

_Well now, they call me the breeze  
_

_I keep blowin' down the road  
_

_I ain't got me nobody  
_

_I don't carry me no load  
_

_Ain't no change in the weather  
_

_Ain't no changes in me  
_

_Well, there ain't no change in the weather  
_

_Ain't no changes in me  
_

_And I ain't hidin' from nobody  
_

_Nobody's hidin' from me  
_

_Oh, that's the way its supposed to be."_

"Call Me the Breeze" written by J. J. Cale, performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd_  
_

_**Edward's POV**_

It was a typical beautiful Florida day, though that did not necessarily preclude the possibility of rain, or "liquid sunshine" as the natives called it. I was one of the rare ones – a true Florida son. Not only had I been born here, but so had both of my parents and three of my four grandparents. Not that it mattered to anyone. Floridians were used to newcomers and it never took long for one to be accepted as a "native." They were a welcoming bunch for the most part, natural enough I guess for a tourist state. I left the top down on the Jeep, because really what was the use of having a soft-top if I didn't take advantage of it? I liked the illusion of freedom that the wind in my hair and the sun on my skin gave me.

As I drove, I let my thoughts explore the events of the day. Bella Swan had been unexpected, to say the least. I had accepted a long time ago that I would live the remainder of my life – no matter how long or short that might be – essentially alone. Yes, I had my mother, and my best friend Alice, and the rest of Dead Poets. Just thinking about them made me remember that it had been too long since I had talked to any of them. At the moment, I knew nothing would sound better to me than hearing one of their voices. More than anyone, they understood how screwed up I was – and why. They understood without judgment, they accepted without condition.

I pulled up into the driveway, gave a look to the sky and thought I might be safe in leaving the top off for now. Of course, I could be making a mad dash outside in five minutes, but that was Florida for you. The house was cool and dark, mostly because the real heat had yet to arrive. It was April and the weather tended to be beautiful and mild. Perfect beach weather, I mused. We were in that brief period of time when the relatively cool days of the Florida winter faded and we had yet to experience the grip of the hot, humid summer. That would come soon enough. Briefly, I allowed myself to wonder how Bella, being from Washington and all, would handle the heat and humidity of a Florida summer. Then I banished her completely from my mind.

Right… about that.

As I put my key in the door, I heard an enthusiastic bark from inside. It was deep and resonating, and when I opened the door a huge, dark shape wriggled in the foyer. "I'm happy to see you, too, Sheba," I teased.

Practically quivering with excitement, Sheba let me know how pleased she was that I was home, and she was no longer alone. I moved to the back door and opened it and she shot out like a canon. She did her business and then moved to the center of the yard, tilting her head and staring at me as if she sensed I was disquieted. Her ear stood up straight and she looked as noble and dangerous as any wolf, but she was merely a very big German shepherd, black with cream colored forelegs and two light spots on her cheeks. I grinned at her. "You look almost vicious, your ladyship."

She gave me a doggy grin and raced toward me, her huge paws thundering over the ground and screeching to a halt less than an inch from me. It was one of her favorite games. I called it the Rush and Scream, but it did tend to intimidate strangers. Sheba was always quite confused as to why new acquaintances did not seem to "get" the game. She did not understand that she was very big and intimidating. It was only after one spent about five minutes with her that there came the realization that she was nothing more than a big, affectionate puppy who wanted nothing more than to be loved. It seemed to be a theme in my life, I mused, thinking of friends.

I sighed and looked up at the sky. It would be sunset in a few hours and in the distance I could hear the roar of the surf. The surfers would be out in force today, the seas were high. After dinner, I would take a walk on the beach. The sounds of the ocean always soothed me.

And meeting Ms. Swan had certainly left me in need of soothing. Then the throbbing in my pants reminded me of another type of soothing I could use, but I gritted my teeth and went into the kitchen to grab a cold beer. It went down smooth and cool, though the pulse in my groin didn't abate one damned bit. Grimly ignoring my body's reaction to the troublesome Bella Swan, I plopped down on the couch and picked up my phone. Definitely time to call one of the Poets, I mused.

But which one? Rosalie would just snort and tell me to "do her." Sex was Rosalie's answer to most of life's problems. Jasper would listen patiently, and they try to avoid giving any real advice. He preferred to let me find my own way, whatever the hell that meant. It was frequently annoying, though Jasper's intentions were always good. He was a valuable sounding board, and sometimes just hearing my thoughts express out loud was enough to help me solve my dilemma. I had a feeling that the situation with Bella was not going to be so easily resolved. Alice was an honorary member of the Poets, but I was strangely reluctant to talk to her about Isabella Swan. I wasn't sure I wanted any of Alice's uncanny insights at the moment. That left Emmett.

I grinned as I punched in his number. "Hello, Assward," Emmett drawled by way of greeting.

"Hello Emmett," I replied, shaking my head at the traditional greeting. Emmett only called me Edward when he was really, really annoyed with me. Sometimes to irritate me he called me Eddie or even Mr. Ed. Usually it was Assward -or Cullen, if we were in what he called "polite" company. He included my mother in that, mostly because he was scared of her. His fear only proved that Emmett was a very smart man beneath the burly, dumb jock exterior.

"What are you up to? Do you have a new beach bunny?" He laughed raucously. Emmett was easily amused and never holds a grudge. It's sort of like being friends with a Labrador puppy. He's big and happy and doesn't know his own strength. If you kicked him, he'd look at you with bad sad eyes and slink away to lick his wounds. Then he'd come right back for more, trusting that the last little incident was never going to be repeated. It was easy to be friends with Emmett because he was honest - to a fault. It was difficult being friends with Emmett for the very same reason.

"No beach bunnies," I told him. "You know that."

"Seriously, Assward, if you don't use that dick of yours it's going to shrivel up and fall off one day," he assured me. "Not that I care one way or the other, but I'm figuring _you_ do. Or you should at least." I remained silent for a moment too long and Emmett snorted. "So…what's her name?"

"What makes you think there's a _her_?" I retorted, though I knew I was already busted. Big, playful puppy or not, Emmett wasn't stupid.

"Let's just say vast experience has my spidey senses tingling and that Assward has met a – wait for it - _girrrlllll_," he shot back.

"How old are you?" I asked, exasperated.

"Just two fucking years older than you, Assward," Emmett said.

"Then start acting like it."

Emmett was silent for a moment. "Naw," he finally answered. "Being a grown up's no fun. So I'll stick with immature and annoying, if it's all the same to you."

I took a deep breath. "Okay…there's a her." I grumbled the admission, knowing I was letting myself in for no end of shit.

"I knew it!" Emmett crowed triumphantly. I could practically see him doing his little victory dance. Ass.

"Shut up." I had to say it, even though I knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Details, buddy, I need details!"

"Her name is Bella and she just started working at the shelter," I began.

"Is she hot?" Emmett pressed. "I'll bet she's hot. She's gotta be hot. You wouldn't fall for an ugly chick."

"Emmett, it's not like that."

"Cullen, you've got a dick and your dick likes girls. Of course it's like that."

"The thing is…" I couldn't finish.

"The thing is…what?" Emmett's voice was serious now, all teasing set aside for the moment.

"I…I could really fall for her. I know it."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Assward." He snorted.

"It _is_ a bad thing," I said between clenched teeth.

I could hear Emmett heave a huge sigh. "Are we really still on that same old shit, Edward?"

Uh oh. _Edward_. I had pissed off the big, cuddly puppy. "Uh…well…you know…it's not…I'm…"

"You're going to tie your tongue in knots you keep that shit up, Edward." Impatience laced Emmett's words, along with a healthy dose of annoyance.

"Emmett, I just…I can't." I forced the words out. "You know why."

Another sigh, this one resigned. "Yeah, buddy, I got you on that." He paused. "But really, you know I don't agree with that crap. It's all bullshit, you realize that right? None of us have any guarantees, Cullen. We know that better than most. But you can't live your whole life afraid of getting hurt…or hurting someone else. Sometimes it happens, but sometimes it doesn't. I say go for it and hope for the best, because that's about all you can do anyway."

I paused. "Heavy words from a Labrador puppy."

"Yeah, I watch Dr. Phil, you can thank me later."

"Call me the breeze, baby," I shot back, a saying that Emmett had coined for me from one of our favorite songs.

"Well, you're a bunch of hot air, that's for sure," Emmett retorted.

"Asshole," I said.

"You know you love me, Assward," Emmett laughed.

"God help me, I do." That was the simple truth. We'd all been through too much together not to have a bond. We had a shared history that very few could comprehend.

"So grow a pair and tell the girl you think she's pretty. Carry her books, give her a note and ask her if she likes you, take her out for lunch, hell, give her a daisy or some shit. Girls dig that crap. Just don't sit around and mope like I _know_ you're doing right now, Assward."

"I'm hanging up now."

"You know I'm right!"

"So…how's the writing coming along, Mr. Harlequin?" I owed him one, and I knew that the Mr. Harlequin crap annoyed the shit out of him. Which was nothing less than he deserved at the moment, and I was more than willing to dish it out.

"Shut it, Edward."

"Shutting." Even puppies could bite when they got too mad, so I let it go. For now.

_**Bella's POV**_

So, one day down. I was exhausted to say the least. I collapsed onto my small bed and covered my face with my hands. Why oh why did I pick the one place to work that had a living breathing sex god to torment me? I had given up on all of…_that_. I had learned that such things were not for me. Not because I didn't want them. I did. I was still human, after all. But I knew I didn't deserve them, and so as penance, I had vowed to give them up.

It had all seemed so simple before. There had been no one and nothing tempting me. Solitude was easy when there was no one you wanted to spend time with – no one you wanted to undress and do nasty, possibly illegal things to. I could feel the moisture pooling in my panties, the heat unfurling in my core. This was bad.

Oh God. I rolled over on my head and struggled to regulate my breathing. This could not be happening. I wouldn't _let_ it. _Mind over matter, Swan_. I imagined my rational, logical mind as a coach, trying to give my out-of-control body a pep talk. I was, after all, a civilized being. I managed to eat without making others gag. I dressed myself every day, though anything beyond jeans and tee-shirts still made me a bit nervous. Still, I managed to cover the vital bits without help from anyone else. I paid my bills. I could read. I could even offer a semi-thoughtful commentary on what I read.

God, I was pathetic. As if literacy was going to help with that empty ache inside of me. Then a beloved and familiar face flashed through my thoughts and I was ashamed. I owed it to him to try and control myself.

I would do better. I would restrain myself.

Even if it killed me.

Or him. Now there was a thought…


	4. Chapter 4: Long Ago and Far Away

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

Author's Note: I hope to use music lyrics from Jacksonville bands as much as possible. This city is rich in musical heritage, though not as well known as some.

**Chapter 4: Long Ago and Far Away**

_"Lately I'm learnin_

_That so many yearnings are never to be_

_The childhood illusions are merely delusions of a girl that I see_

_In my minds eye_

_I see clearly a vision of how it could be_

_Me and my fantasy girl_

_Hold on to me_

_Be my fantasy girl_

_Don't set me free_

_Now I've had my share_

_Sometimes I swear that I've had enough_

_You end up in sorrow_

_Broken tomorrows, love can be tough_

_But my minds eyed sees a vision of true love and how it should be."_ Written by Jeff Carlisi and James M. Peterik, performed by .38 Special

_**Bella's POV**_

Marion was putting a rather daunting stack of papers on my desk when I arrived. She looked up and gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, part of the package," she murmured.

I hung up my purse and picked up the first of the documents. There were several requests to find specific services for clients. I noticed that two of them had been signed by sex god…er, Edward Cullen. His handwriting was neat, precise, and bold. Apparently, he was a leftie. God, I had a thing for lefties. And for guys with long hair. And for the scruff. Oh fuck me, the scruff! He was like an edible scruffy Adonis. Okay, it seemed I just had a _thing_ for Edward Cullen. Period.

"I'll get started on these right away." I smiled at her. "So what kind of volunteer staff do we have around today_?" I'd like to know if the sex god is here so that I can figure out if I'm going to need those spare panties I brought with me. A girl likes to be prepared_.

Marion paused for a moment, clearly doing a mental count. "Looks like we're fully staffed," she said with satisfaction. "Our regulars pretty much stick to a schedule, so today we've got Megan, Kelly, and George on board – plus about six others, drop-ins from a church down the street." No sex god?? No scruffy Adonis? What?? I had spent all night preparing myself to ignore that gorgeous, masculine ass hat and he wasn't even going to be here??? But then what would I take a stealthy look at while I pretended to ignore his existence? I needed scenery, damn it!

I tried not to let my smile slip, but it was an effort. "Good," I said, pretending to be thrilled that we had enough people to run the shelter for the day (but alas no sex god). Instead, I wanted to stomp my feet and pout like a little girl. _I want the sex god and I want him noowwwww!_ So, apparently I was channeling the whiny, spoiled Veruca Salt today. If I wasn't careful I'd end up in the garbage chute, barreling toward the incinerator along with all the other rotten eggs. I wondered if all my different personalities were going to play nice with each other. Probably not.

Marion gave me a strange look, which led me to believe that my disappointment was evident in my expression. But on the bright side, I would probably actually get work done, which was, after all, what I was getting paid for.

_**Edward's POV**_

It was Tuesday, which meant I would be working at the food bank in the morning and then tutoring students in math at the rec center after school let out. Usually, I quite enjoyed working with the kids, all of whom came from extremely poor families. They were no different than their more affluent peers, at least not in any negative way. I'd seen more grace and courage among them than I'd have ever thought possible. They handled what life threw at them, and most of them were willing to struggle to rise above it.

They inspired me. Helping them helped _me_ keep the worst of the demons at bay. The other Dead Poets never really understood why I filled up my days with volunteer work. Emmett had his work, which he called well-paying therapy. Rose had never seemed to struggle with our shared past. Jasper was too well-grounded to let much bother him. And Alice… Well, Alice was just Alice. She wasn't _officially_ a member of the Poets, but honestly, she was as much a part of our sad little group as the rest of us. _They_ all handled it much better than I did, but I knew my own history was markedly different from theirs. I came from a long line of strong women who ended up raising their children alone. My strange and sad inheritance stretched back for generations. I could not forget.

Thanks to my father, however, I'd never have to worry about a paycheck and my needs were simple for the most part. I couldn't imagine trying to fill my days with idle pastimes. At least trying to help others made me feel slightly less like a freak.

There was also the very real benefit of getting to see how various charities actually worked. I quickly learned which organizations put their money to good use and which essentially wasted it. This was information I needed, if I was going to put my plan into action when the time came. I didn't want a single dollar going to waste. I wanted to do the most good, make the biggest difference I could.

Today, however, I found myself distracted and slightly peevish at the food bank. Loading and unloading trucks was not mentally taxing, but I still found my thoughts drifting and more than once Mike, the loading dock supervisor, had to yell my name and bring me back to task. I smiled and shrugged and he gave me a good-natured grin in return. He was a nice guy, a hard worker. He worked nights at the Port Authority, loading and unloading the ships. But he still volunteered here one day a week, just as I did. He had confided in me that the food bank had kept his family fed a few years ago when he'd been laid off and looking for work. It was people like Mike who helped restore my faith in humanity. He gave back because it was the right thing to do, with no thought of reward.

As fragile and temporary as our lives were, at least some were trying to make a difference with the few years they were granted. Meeting people like Mike only confirmed my own plans. I wanted to make sure that I put my years on this earth to good use. Whatever time I had left, I wanted to make it count.

_**Bella's POV**_

It was Wednesday, and according to Marion, that meant that Edward-sex-god-scruffy –Adonis-Cullen would be back at the shelter. I knew that the little frisson of anticipation I felt running up my spine was a definite no-no. Not only was the mysteriously and apparently independently wealthy (or at least financially solvent) Edward Cullen _completely_ out of my league, I knew that romance simply wasn't in the cards for me. I had resolved to lead a fulfilling and meaningful life without the complication of being involved with someone and I meant to do exactly that.

Then Edward the Sex God AKA The Scruffy Adonis walked by my office, gave me a cool nod of his head, and walked back toward the kitchen. He had, very summarily, dismissed me. I tried desperately to tamp down the crushing disappointment I felt when I realized that whatever spark I had imagined during our first meeting was apparently only a figment of my very overactive imagination. It had all been in my head and he had obviously felt nothing at all.

I fiercely told myself that I was glad, that it simplified things. And who needed a sexy, scruffy Adonis _anyway_?

_**Edward's POV**_

At least now I knew what I had to do. I was simply going to ignore Bella Swan as much as good manners would allow. It was so simple, so fucking brilliant and uncomplicated that I wondered why I hadn't thought of it sooner. Or maybe I had thought of it sooner but had pushed it away because even now, the thought of pretending she didn't exist made my chest hurt and my belly clench. Plainly put, I wanted her. More than I had ever wanted any other woman I'd ever encountered. I lusted… I felt a keen sense of craving, a desperate need to mark her as _mine_. The desire was visceral and primal and I did not know why. Or maybe I did. Okay, I knew exactly why I wanted to mark Bella Swan as the property of Edward Cullen.

Because I was an idiot, that's why. If I ever forgot that, and it seemed that I had, I usually had the rest of the Poets to remind me. And they did. Forcefully and repeatedly – using physical reinforcement if they needed to. But that's what friends were for.

I had signed up for chores that would allow me to work alone today, and far away from the much too tempting Ms. Swan, so I got out my iPod and popped in the earbuds, letting the music soothe me. Music had been a huge part of my life for as long as I could remember. I felt a need to reconnect to what was important, what mattered, so I turned to the playlist I loved the most, the one that reminded me of why Bella Swan was off limits.

Yes, that would do it.

_I saw a girl by the river…_

The familiar voice took me away and I was in another place, far away and long ago.

I was there alone, and that was as it should be.

_**Bella**_

The dream started the same way it always did. There was a rush of cold and she felt her teeth begin to chatter. She opened her eyes and as always there was the white. She began screaming.

_**Edward**_

The dream started the same way it always did. There was a rush of heat and he felt his skin begin to burn, his lips pulling back from his teeth. He opened his eyes and watched the flames dance with hungry anticipation.

He began screaming.


	5. Chapter 5: The Village People

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 5: The Village People**

_"I'm a loner,  
I'm a loser,  
I'm a winner,  
In my mind._

I'm a bad one,  
I'm a good one,  
I'm a sick one,  
With a smile.

I can't take this,  
Born to break this."

"Stupid Girl" written by Scooter Ward and Rivers Cuomo, performed by Cold

_**Bella's POV**_

I woke up rattled. The dream always made me tired. I hated the dream and it seemed to be visiting me more frequently. I hated the idea of forgetting just as much, though. I was a bad person, but because I_ knew_ I was a bad person, maybe it wasn't quite as bad? Weird. I knew that. In some strange, sick way, I wanted to the pain that the dream brought me. Maybe I thought the pain bought me some sort of redemption. I don't know.

Still, I was exhausted. I hadn't had my coffee yet. As I stumbled toward my kitchen, I could feel my mouth watering in anticipation of that ambrosia of the gods. At least it was finally Friday and that meant I had two heavenly days of sex-god-free time stretching out before me. Though I would miss the scenery, I admitted to myself. Besides, he had been doing a pretty good job of ignoring me for almost two weeks. Surely I could manage to return the favor. I could ignore the fact that my whole body seemed to gravitate toward his, that I felt odd tingles of awareness flickering up and down my spine when I saw him. None of that mattered, because Edward Cullen was off limits in every way.

I stretched, gulped down the rest of my coffee and jumped into the shower.

_**Edward's POV**_

Thank fuck it was finally Friday and day 12 of The Ignore Bella Swan Campaign. The dream always wore me out. It had been a while since I'd had it – maybe six months – at least before Isabella had arrived. Since then, I'd been subjected to it no less than four times. I had sort of been hoping it wouldn't come back, though I should have known better. I knew why I had had the dream of course. That was no mystery. I didn't need a therapist to tell me, though quite a few had anyway. I was done with that, though. They had nothing to offer me, no new insights. I was fucked up. I understood that. I accepted it.

I was sorely tempted to call out sick today, to call Marion and explain that I wasn't feeling well. That would have been nothing less than the truth. Physically, I was fine. Mentally? I was a basket case – and all because of Ms. Isabella Swan. I scowled as I sat slumped on the edge of my bed. Why had she moved to Florida? Why had she left…where was it again? Oh yeah, Washington state. Who moves all the way across the country to take a job at a homeless shelter? And why had she chosen _mine_?

I flopped back on the bed with a disgusted sigh. I really _was _mental. The poor girl had not moved here just to spite me. She didn't even know me. Intellectually, I knew she hadn't moved here simply to torment me. And besides that single involuntary look at my crotch, which admittedly had probably been prompted by her discussion, she had ignored me as completely as I had ignored her.

Strangely, that hurt.

I rubbed at my eyes, wishing that was enough to wipe away the memory of Bella Swan. It was true I had been ignoring her – at least where she could see me. However, when her interests were occupied elsewhere, I'd become a creepy stalker. Hiding out in the pantry, deep in the shadows while she discussed an issue with the volunteer cooks…walking by her office a dozen times a day even though there was no reason in the world for me to do so. There was just something utterly adorable about her as she worked, frowning at a spreadsheet, and her pen in between her plump, pink lips –

Whoa. Stop it right there, Cullen.

I looked down and sure enough… Well shit. I had jerked off more times these past two weeks than in any time of my life, save for that heady first year when I'd discovered exactly what an erection was really for. Then I had taken so many showers that my mother threatened to cut off my balls if I didn't stop running up the electricity bill. At the time, she'd opined that perhaps _cold_ showers were a better option – less expensive in any case.

My mom. The comedian.

She would like Bella. And I was right back where I'd started.

Fuck me.

_**Bella's POV**_

Halfway through the day and I'd yet to see Edward Cullen. I told myself quite firmly that I was _glad_, though surely it was unhealthy to lie to myself. Some psychologist would certainly have a field day with that one. Of course, I didn't need anyone else to tell me that I was crazy. I looked down at my desk, at the pictures I just brought in today. Somehow, seeing familiar faces made this seem like my office at last. I smiled at my father's face, staring out at me. A slight smile tugged at his mouth. It was rare to see Charlie grin, usually it was this half-smile. I would have to call him tonight. I missed him more than I had anticipated and I knew he missed me too.

But he hadn't tried to talk me into staying. He had known that I needed to get away. He might have known even before I did. "Just don't let Renee make you crazy," had been his last bit of advice. Wise words. He had gotten it wrong, of course. It wasn't my mother who was making me nuts.

It was the sex god/scruffy Adonis man. Edward Cullen. Damn him and his…_everything_.

_**Edward's POV**_

I made it to lunchtime without letting Bella see me. I had seen _her_ plenty, which didn't mean I was a creepy stalker. I had watched her discuss a menu with Raul. I had spied on her as she talked quietly with Chasey, and I was not surprised to see the young girl warming up to Bella. Ms. Swan had a way about her…

Okay, I had become a creepy stalker. I had watched and watched and watched.

I had watched her talking to a little boy on the playground. Apparently, he had fallen and scraped his knee. Since his mother was trying to put his sister down for a nap, the boy had been left with the other children on the playground, which had suited him just fine until he had fallen.

As he sat there, crying and carefully cradling his knee, Bella had walked by and seen him and detoured to sit down beside him in the sand. I watched as she inspected his knee, talked to him seriously for a moment. Then the boy grinned and nodded, apparently agreeing with whatever she had told him. She got to her feet and offered him her hand, pulling him upright. Then she bent down – giving me a fine view of her ass in the process – to give his knee one last look. After a pat on the head, the boy ran off to join his friends, leaving Bella behind.

After that, and for a change of pace, I had _listened_ to her argue with someone from the city about services being denied to a client. She started off sweet and conciliatory, sounding more like a school girl than a woman on a mission. Apparently, the person she was speaking to made the same mistaken assumption and it didn't take long for the "ball buster" to make an appearance – with a vengeance.

I had to stifle my laughter as Bella ripped into the unfortunate person on the other end of the line, all the while completely maintaining her professional demeanor. It was a fine line to walk, but she seemed to do so effortlessly. Ball buster indeed. I looked down with a sigh. It was a good thing I'd worn my loose jeans today.

Who would have thought disdain and sarcasm would be so fucking sexy?

_**Bella's POV**_

I wasn't sure but I was beginning to suspect that Edward Cullen was _deliberately_ avoiding me. I mean, I had run into everyone else several times every day they worked. But Cullen was the Invisible Man. I knew he was here; I'd heard his voice discussing an issue with Marion. I'd even smelled him in the kitchen this morning. I'm not sure how I knew it was him, but I did. It was scary that I already knew his scent.

Forcing my attention back to the papers in my hand, I noticed an error that had probably cost one of our clients much needed services. There were proper procedures to go through, and the paperwork had to be filled out exactly. The volunteers knew this, but our processes needed tweaking. We had too many people attending to the same tasks. Over the next few weeks I vowed to take a look at how things were done. If we could improve our efficiency, then our clients could get what they needed sooner, and that's why we were all here.

Suddenly feeling invigorated at the thought of a problem I could actually solve, I rushed out of my office, still looking at the paper. So of course I ran right into a hot, hard wall of…sex god. I looked up, blinking. My body already knew exactly who I had run into. Every nerve ending was quivering with excitement and my synapses were firing random, dirty thoughts at the speed of light.

Uh…pretty…must touch…lick…bite…

Instead, I bit _my_ lip and scowled up at him. "What?" I snapped.

_**Edward's POV**_

"What?" Bella was obviously not at all pleased to see me. My inner caveman looked at her white teeth nibbling at her lower lip and thought instantly, _Mine_.

"Watch where you're going," I hissed, angry at myself for the urge to reach out and bite at that lower lip myself. I'd bite hard enough for her to remember exactly who that lip belonged to and then I'd –

Whoa. Slow the fuck down, caveman.

I glared right back at her, mostly so I wouldn't fall to my knees and start to undress her while suggesting that she might want to start tugging at my hair and pressing my face against her –

Double whoa. _Well, howdy there cowboy – join the party_.

"Maybe if you weren't_ lurking_ outside my office," she muttered and I flinched, though luckily she didn't see me since she was too busy rolling her eyes. Sadly, she was right. I had been lurking. I was a big, dirty lurker – practically a peeping tom. And caveman. And apparently now a cowboy. If I kept this up I'd be the Village People all by myself.

I smirked at her, unable to help myself, though I already knew it would infuriate her. Sure enough, the fire blazed in her cheeks and she gave a soft, muffled screech of fury. I almost expected her to stomp her foot. Or kick me in the balls. Neither one would have surprised me. I wanted to tell her that she looked fucking adorable when she was pissed.

However, I hadn't forgotten she was a ball buster extraordinaire. So I shut my mouth and canted my hips slightly to the left. Granted, my balls were serving absolutely no purpose at the moment, but they were still my _balls,_ and I preferred them attached.

I think she must read minds because she poked me in the chest, hard enough for me to wince and then breezed past me like I wasn't there.

But oh the view as she stalked away. I stared after her.

_Me Tarzan. You Jane. Me take you – love you long time_. _Me make you howl…_ All I needed was a vine. And a chimp. Okay, probably not the chimp.

Shit. Down, boy. Down.


	6. Chapter 6: Burned

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 6: Burned**

"_Keep your eyes open for a while  
In a box high up on the shelf, left for you, no one else  
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life  
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight." _

_Lyrics written by Brent Smith & Tony Battaglia, performed by Shinedown_

_**Bella's POV**_

The weekend started off great. I slept in, not waking up until almost eleven. I had some coffee and a croissant, a little weekend indulgence. Then I decided to hit a mall and actually do some shopping. My mother would be proud of me, I thought with a grin. I found the Avenues Mall with little trouble and it put the shopping in Port Angeles to shame – which actually really wasn't all that difficult.

I bought some more jeans and shirts for work, even breaking down and buying a few denim mini-skirts that I hoped would serve me well in the Florida heat. Unfortunately, I knew I'd never sport the golden tan that almost everyone had. Had these people never heard of skin cancer? Besides, no matter how long I stayed out in the sun I never seemed to tan. Even in Phoenix, I had been pale, pale, pale. I had finally accepted it, and I took comfort in the fact that I wouldn't look like wrinkled old leather by my thirtieth birthday. At least, I hoped not.

I got home just before dinner and decided to make lasagna. I could freeze some dinner sized portions to eat during the week. I ignored the pang I felt when I thought about Charlie. He had always enjoyed my lasagna a lot. He'd be back to eating out or scarfing down junk food again. I wondered how long it would take him to get out and visit me. I laughed, shaking my head. Charlie hated to fly, but he'd told me he would – for me. I guess it was a dad thing.

After dinner and a few glasses of wine, I was feeling mellow and contented. I wasn't even thinking about the sex god. Well, not much. I popped in one of my favorite movies, Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfayden. While I had a secret crush on Colin Firth, I could never get past the Jane in the mini-series. Jane was supposed to be an ethereal beauty, not someone who looked as if they might have played professional football. Sorry, Colin. So I settled in to watch the sparks fly between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett. Now _that_ was romance. Oh how I wished I deserved my own Mr. Darcy.

Unfortunately, I fell asleep before they finally kissed – the most romantic kiss in the history of kisses.

_**Edward's POV**_

The weekend was hell. It started off badly when I was awakened at seven in the morning on Saturday by my former friend Emmett. I glared at him as he stood there at the door with a shitty grin on his face and two cups of Starbucks. Even the coffee wasn't enough to make up for the too early wake up call.

"What the fuck?" I muttered. Sheba was doing her happy dance. She loved Emmett. I suspected it was because they had so much in common. I scowled at her. _Traitor_. She just grinned up at me and then danced around Emmett some more.

"Well, good morning to you too," Emmett said with irrepressible good humor. I hated Emmett in the mornings.

Mornings were meant to be endured, not enjoyed. Who the hell _likes_ the morning? I grabbed the coffee and gulped. After a few more minutes and a few more gulps I started to feel my brain beginning to wake up. I still wasn't happy with Emmett but at least I wasn't devising plots to murder him.

"God, you're a grump in the morning," Emmett grumbled.

"My house, my rules," I said, which didn't really make any sense. It was too damned early to be coherent. "If I want to be grumpy, that's my own damned business."

Emmett just rolled his eyes at me. "Whatever." Then he looked around while I opened up the back door to let Sheba the Betrayer out. "Uh…I didn't interrupt anything did I?"

I stared at him for a moment, completely clueless. Then it dawned on me. He wanted to know if I had female company, more specifically the "her" that I had tried to deny existed.

"Uh…that would be a no," I replied.

Emmett laughed. "So _that's_ why you're in such a shitty mood."

"Go away."

He didn't. What a surprise.

_**Bella's POV**_

Sunday morning proved to be perfect beach weather. The sun was shining brightly, but there was a gentle breeze that made it all very pleasant. So I packed a small cooler, grabbed a book I'd been wanting read, a few towels and I headed toward Jacksonville Beach. Apparently, there were lots of beaches in the area, but I decided I'd try that one first.

As I got closer to the beach I noticed that the city changed. In my area, Riverside, there were lovely old houses and families walking along the sidewalks under ancient trees. It was all very genteel, and I always expected someone to offer me a mint julep and invite me to sit on the veranda. By the time I was a few miles from the beach, however, I was struck by the different feeling the area had.

The businesses were generally smaller, mom-n-pop places, a lot of surf shops, several tattoo places (I put that thought aside for further consideration), and lots of seafood restaurants, naturally. Parking was okay, though of course the beach was crowded since it was, after all, perfect beach weather. I was not the only one who had noticed. There was no driving on the beach, and a slew of signs made sure everyone was made well aware of that fact. I grabbed my gear and trudged over the dunes, reflecting that the sand here was so much different from the beaches at home.

It was pale and soft in some places, light and coarse in others, shifting seamlessly over the dunes, sea oats waving in the breeze. I put on some sunscreen, though I'd never had sunburn in my life. The sun felt more intense here, especially compared to Washington. _Well duh. It's Florida you idiot!_

I leaned back on my towel, deciding that I'd have to invest in some sort of chaise. I planned to spend some time at the beach. It was oddly peaceful, as crowded as it was. Closing my eyes, I could hear the dull roar of the surf, the laughter of children, the splashing of water, the murmur of voices – all of it washed over me and lulled me to sleep.

I woke up with a mouth full of cotton and a horribly prickly feeling all over my front. Uh oh. Shit. Still groggy, I lurched over and grabbed my watch out of my bag. I had fallen asleep an hour ago. That wasn't so bad, I mused. Surely an hour couldn't have caused _that _much harm.

I gave my arm an experimental poke, surprised when it blanched white and then went right back to bright red.

Well, that wasn't good.

Then I heard a voice – the scruffy _Adonis_ voice – and I wanted to die. Right then and there.

_**Edward's POV**_

I stared at her for a moment, asleep and utterly peaceful. It was sort of sexy, seeing her sprawled there on the sand. Was that…? Yeah, it was a Star Wars towel. I found that unbearably cute. Was she a fan or had she just ended up with the towel? Suddenly I really wanted to know. I wanted to know _everything_ about her. Then I noticed the color of her skin. It looked like she was blushing – all over.

_Uh oh. Bad visual to have when you're only wearing board shorts, Cullen_.

And she talked in her sleep. Well…fuck me. It was the height of bad manners to listen in on what was essentially a very private conversation between Bella and well…Bella. So I knew I really _ought_ to wake her, though I really didn't want to. I heard a sound and leaned down to listen because apparently I was a pervert.

"Sex…god…fuck…smoke…silk…scruffy…looked…big…"

Well now, that was an interesting set of words. Was she dreaming about having sex? I swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on not being a total ass. "Bella…"

She stirred but did not waken. I didn't want to touch her, not only because I was afraid her skin was going to be tender but because I was pretty sure that once I started touching her I wouldn't be able to stop. And I would get arrested for public indecency and possibly assault.

My inner caveman snorted at me in disdain. _Mine_, he said, pointing to the woman on the sand. I could almost hear him say, _"Go get her, boy. She belongs to us."_ I stayed where I was. He rolled his eyes at me. _Pussy_.

"Bella," I said with more volume. "Wake up. You're getting burned."

She sat up but didn't look at me. Blinking, she rummaged through her bag still looking more asleep than awake. She muttered something under breath as she looked at her watch. Then she poked at her arm. What was she doing?

"Bella?"

She looked up at me, her expression horrified.

"You need to get something on that burn you know."

"What burn?"

Was she always this incoherent when she woke up? I desperately wanted to know. I was willing to put in extensive research. I'd be a star student.

"Your sunburn," I said, pointing at her shoulder. I bit my lip, considering what I was about to say. "Listen, I live just down the road. My jeep is just over that dune. I've got some stuff that will help with that burn. You can take a quick shower, put the goop on, and then go home. You'll feel better. I promise."

She blinked at me like an owl. "Goop?"

"That's just what we call it," I told her, offering my hand to help her to her feet. A pleasant tingling ran through my hand as her skin touched mine. Weird. "It's something a friend of mine concocted for sunburn." I glanced up at the sun. "Comes with the territory."

She was silent for a moment, still looking confused. "Okay, but my car is here…"

"I'll bring you back to get it once we get you all doctored up."

Bella thought about that for a moment. "Okay."

She picked up some of her stuff and I bent down to get the rest. I pointed in the direction we would go and she walked out ahead of me. As she turned her back to me, I saw the long, pink scar running up the back of her leg, from her ankle to above her knee. It wasn't the angry red of a very recent injury, but it didn't have the pale appearance of something from a long time ago either. Bella looked over her shoulder and saw me looking.

I expected her to blush, but for once she didn't. "Are you coming or not, Cullen?"

With a sigh, I pulled on the shirt I had been carrying. For some reason, I felt very…vulnerable around her. Maybe another piece of clothing would help. 

Right. Sure it would.


	7. Chapter 7: Worth a Thousand Words

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 7: Worth a Thousand Words**

"Sail on, darlin', sail on  
Woman, you go your way, and I'll go mine  
Seems to me, that I once heard  
That everything is finally cured by time  
So sail on, darlin', sail on  
Lord, I wish you good luck  
And I'll see you when you come next time." Written by Gregg Allman, "Come and Go Blues."

_**Bella's POV**_

His house wasn't quite what I expected. It was a typical beach house, painted an almost aggressive yellow with bright blue shutters. Still, after hearing rumors about family money I'd expected something large and opulent and…showy. Instead, it was just a house. Nice. Unassuming. Quite unlike the sex god himself. As he opened the car door, I heard a series of quick, deep barks.

I looked at him, quirking an eyebrow in inquiry. He gave me a crooked grin (damn, I forgot to bring extra panties). "Uh…that's Sheba," he explained. "She hates being by herself," he added as he unlocked the door. "So…be prepared. She's rather…enthusiastic." He opened the door.

Then he began an interesting series of maneuvers that sort of blocked the doorway and all I could see was a massive dark shape darting around in the foyer, trying to evade him. He seemed to be trying to keep the source of the barking away from me. I smiled at him and ducked under his arm, pushing his leg out of the way. I was having none of that. It sounded like Sheba and I needed to get to know each other. Besides, I didn't want her jumping on me and setting my skin on fire. I could feel the prickling start to intensify.

"Sheba, huh?"

I'm not sure which one of them was more surprised when Sheba sat down and stared up at me expectantly. I immediately knelt in front of her and began fondling her ears. "She's a beauty," I murmured, gazing into her dark eyes.

"Yes," Edward muttered. "And she knows it." He gave Sheba a stern look but she ignored him, focusing on me. "You could have gotten hurt," he added, scowling.

"Nah," I said, still rubbing my hands through Sheba's thick, soft fur. "Dogs love me." I grinned up at him. "My friend Ja-" I swallowed hard. "My friends used to call me the dog whisperer." How could it still hurt so much?

"How did you know she wasn't vicious?" Edward asked, throwing his keys onto a small table by the door. He hadn't seemed to notice my slip. I was grateful.

"I just knew," I answered with a shrug. "Besides, big dogs don't scare me. It's the little yappy ones that terrify me." I shuddered.

He laughed. "I know what you mean. Nothing but bedroom slippers that piss and bite."

"Exactly," I agreed, finally getting to my feet. Sheba was tall enough that I could keep a hand on her head, so I did. I could already tell that Sheba and I were going to get along famously.

Edward leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sheba's nose, which she regally accepted as her due. I was suddenly very envious of Sheba. "She's my sweetheart," he said fondly. I wondered if Sheba would share him. I'd even give her space on the bed, as long as I could be curled up around Edward. Why did I torture myself like this?

"How long have you had her?" I asked as we moved toward the kitchen. _Must not think naughty thoughts_….

"Two years," Edward answered. "She was a rescue and absolutely pitiful looking when I got her." He winked down at the dog. "Weren't you, your majesty?" he asked her.

Sheba snorted as if to disagree. I laughed, though I admit that seeing Edward interacting so sweetly with this beautiful animal made me like him all the more – and that was dangerous. So I walked into the living room, glancing around. It looked homey and comfortable, as if Edward had lived here for a while. I envied him that. Sometimes I felt like I had spent half my life moving. "How long have you lived here?" I asked as he bent down to look into the refrigerator.

"A while," he answered shortly. Okay then, the scruffy Adonis does not want to discuss his residence. Make note to self. Honestly, the man's mood swings would do Sybil proud.

There was a group of pictures on a shelf. Most of them were fairly recent and Edward was in several of them. I noted with strange relief that none of them featured Edward alone with a woman, though there were several group photos of Edward with two other men and two women. Both of the women were much too attractive for my peace of mind. Of course, the men were extremely good-looking as well, though not, I admitted, quite up to Edward's standards. It seemed that scruffy Adonises were hard to come by. Or was it scruffy Adoni? Hmmm….

_Shut up_, I told my little voice.

Then there were a few photos that were obviously older. I could tell by the somewhat grainy look and the clothing. A group of kids, all hamming it up for the camera, one looking vaguely like Edward. He was smirking. Apparently, Adonis had learned that technique early in life. One of an older woman, she looked very grandmotherly and wise and suddenly I wanted homemade cookies. A more recent picture, an attractive woman with Edward's vivid green eyes, her hair slightly lighter than his, more coppery than bronze – that had to be his mother. It was either an older picture than it looked or she had aged very nicely. I glanced at Edward, thinking he would probably age quite well too. I saw no pictures of a man I would guess was his father. Wait. There was one more, mostly hidden behind the rest…

The same woman was in another picture, taken when she was quite young. I looked at the photo. It was a young couple, neither of them much out of their teens it seemed. He was shirtless, sitting in a canvas lawn chair, a can of Budweiser in one hand, a cigarette in the other. His arms and chest, what I could see of them, were heavily inked with tattoos. Most of his torso, however, was hidden by the woman in his lap. She was very, very pregnant. He had long blond hair that fell to his shoulders in a sleek, pale waterfall; his face was turned toward her, their foreheads gently touching. Her long, slender fingers tenderly rested on his strong jaw line. Ah, this must be his father as a young man. Something about the man's face, even in profile, tugged at an old and vague memory. His features were Edward's but I was sure I recognized him from somewhere else. Before I could grasp the memory, I heard Edward speak.

"My parents," Edward said behind me and the memory drifted away, banished by the silk and smoke of Edward's voice.

I smiled and pointed to the woman's round belly. "You?"

"The one and only." His answer was flippant and casual, but the tone was not. His eyes rested on the picture for a long moment and I got the impression that he did so often. I could see him standing here, brooding, and studying the picture of the people who had created him. They looked young and in love and exquisitely and tenderly happy.

"You look like your dad," I murmured. "But you've got your mom's hair."

"And eye color," Edward added and then shrugged. "Wanna beer?"

_**Edward's POV**_

Seeing Bella look at the picture of my parents made me feel panicky and out of breath. I wasn't sure why, but I felt the anxiety fluttering in my chest. Sheba whined, nudging her nose into my hand, sensing something was amiss. I gave her a reassuring pat and felt myself relax as Bella turned away from the picture to accept the beer. What if she asked where my parents were now?

My mom lived about thirty minutes away, so that was easy enough to explain. But then she would inevitably ask about my father. I didn't want to talk about that. I could always give her the standard answer I threw out there for anyone nosey enough to press the issue. "My father died when I was a child. I don't remember much about him." Only half of that was true. He _had_ died when I was a boy. But I remembered him quite vividly, though there were times I was not sure if the memories were my own or if they had been kept alive by my mother's devotion to his memory. I didn't really care. I remembered him and that was enough. But I did not want her to ask. It would make me vulnerable in a way I could not afford to be with her.

Bella gave me an odd look but took a swig from her beer. "I like your house," she said.

I shrugged, still feeling disconcerted by the image of Bella leaning in to get a closer look at that picture. If I had known I would be bringing her back here, I would have tucked it away. Why was I feeling so panicked? "I can't imagine living anywhere else now."

"My mom lives about twenty minutes away from here," she said. I looked at her in surprise. I had not realized that she had family here. The gossip around the shelter had mentioned family in Washington State. She must have seen it in my expression because she grinned.

"No…I didn't hatch fully grown from an egg or anything," she teased. "I do have parents."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not – I mean, you've never talked about your family. So I didn't know…you know, maybe they were…gone." Even as I said the words, I wanted to take them back. Uttering them was opening a door for her to question me and I steeled myself for the inevitable inquiry.

Bella, however, merely knelt down by Sheba again, guarding her beer from Sheba's long tongue. "Nuh uh," Bella scolded. "I love you, baby, but I'm not drinking after you." She looked up at me. So did Sheba. "Your dog's an alkie, just thought you should know."

I had to take a moment to gather my thoughts. Bella's soft, husky voice had caused a…reaction in my body. Briefly, I was very grateful that I had thrown on a shirt. The hem provided nice camouflage. "Yeah," I agreed. "That's Emmett's fault. He likes to put beer in her bowl when he's here. She knows what's in the bottle." I gave Sheba a stern look which she ignored by gazing at Bella with adoration.

"Who's Emmett?" I didn't really want to answer that question either, but it was infinitely safer than the topic of my parents. I knew that my reticence on that subject bordered on mentally unstable, but that's just the way it was.

"A friend," I said. There, a safe answer. And true, as far as it went. I waited for her to ask about my parents. I had seen the question there in her eyes. Once again, she surprised me.

"What's it like growing up in Florida – always close to a beach?"

"It's…hot," I replied with a smirk. "Of course, you know what they say. It's not the heat-"

"It's the humidity," Bella finished, rolling her eyes. "I've got a newsflash for _them_. It's the fucking heat."

"Yeah, well, this is nothing," I warned. _Maybe you should go back to where you came from and leave me alone._ "Come July, this will seem like paradise."

She grimaced and shook her head. "Don't remind me."

"I'll go get the goop and you can put it on after you shower." I was suddenly in a hurry to get her away from me.

"I really hate to inconvenience you," she said, looking a little embarrassed.

I shrugged. "It's no biggie." I went into my bathroom and grabbed the small, plain white tub of goop. I walked back into the living room and saw her looking at the picture again. I panicked. I had to get her out of here. "You know, I've got more of this stuff. You can take this with you. Keep it. You'd probably feel better showering at your place anyway. Put this on after. Ignore the smell. It's vile. But that shit works." I tried to smile but I knew I probably just looked like I had to puke.

She blinked at me, probably surprised at the abrupt about face I'd just performed. Sheba looked up at me in canine dismay. She knew she was about to lose her new best friend. I looked down at my dog and frowned. _Traitor_.

"Uh…sure…" Bella said. But what else _could_ she say? No, I want to use_ your_ shower? I felt bad, I felt like an ass, but I just wanted her out of my house. It was too dangerous to have her here. She made me want things I shouldn't want.

And she made me nervous as hell.

So I drove her to her car and practically shoved her out of my Jeep.

_Classic, Cullen. Really. Bravo._


	8. Chapter 8: You're an Ass, Edward Cullen

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 8: You're an Ass, Edward Cullen**

"Won't you cure my tragedy  
Won't you cure my tragedy  
Don't take her smile away from me  
She's broken and I'm far away  
Won't you cure my tragedy  
Won't you cure my tragedy  
If you made the world a stage for me  
then i hope that you can hear me scream

I can't take this anymore  
I can't feel this anymore  
Won't you take and give her pain to me  
Cause my whole life I've made mistakes

Can you hear me scream  
Can you hear me scream."

"Cure My Tragedy" written by Hayes, Kelly; Ward, Jr., Ronald; Mc Candless, Samuel; Balsamo, Terry; Marshall, Jeremy D., performed by Cold.

_**Bella's POV**_

I thought I might have cracked the ice a little with Edward when he took me to his house. I had even – briefly – entertained the thought that maybe, just maybe, he would try something while I was there. Sadly, those hopes did not come to fruition. I tried to tell myself very firmly that I wasn't disappointed at all. In fact, I assured that little voice in my head, I was _relieved_.

I was so full of shit.

Of course, I realized that I might have only met two of Mr. Cullen's personalities. The sweet guy on the beach and then the strangely tense man who had pretty much tossed me out of his house – not to mention his car. I still hadn't figured that out. One minute he seemed almost normal (and how cute was a man who loved his dog?) and then the next… He was throwing the goop at me and herding me into his Jeep.

I was almost surprised he actually came to a full stop when he put me out at my car. I half expected to land on my ass after he'd pushed me out the door. Jeez, what was his _problem_??

_**Edward's POV**_

I was an ass. I was a complete and total ass. I know this because Emmett told me. More than once. And he said while he was sober, so I know it's the truth. Of course, he reiterated it after we were both drunk – just in case I missed the memo. Edward Cullen is an ass.

My first mistake had been calling him Sunday night.

No. Scratch that. My first mistake had been inviting Bella to my house and then my _next_ mistake was to panic like a pussy (for no fucking reason I might add) and practically throw her out of my house because she was looking at a picture of my parents. Calling Emmett was my_ third_ mistake. I was sensing a pattern.

Then we drank. A lot. Fourth mistake. And proceeded to commit the cardinal sin of drinking and mixed our beer and booze. I knew better. I really did. That was mistake number… Oh fuck it. I had screwed up.

But Ms. Swan was throwing me off my game. Jack plus Bud does not a happy Edward make. I think there was a Mythbusters episode about that. I can't remember the outcome, but I'm pretty sure that mixing booze and beer made you the sickest. It got_ my_ vote anyway.

I still wasn't sure about what had come over me. I had freaked, pure and simple. I'd never spazzed out about anyone else seeing the pictures of my parents. It was a _picture_, for fuck's sake. Of my _parents_. And what were the odds that she'd even recognize my father? Or care? A billion to one. At least. So not only was I an ass, I was a _paranoid_ ass – and egotistical to boot. I was acting like it mattered. It was a long time ago and no one cared anymore. Except me, and I cared too much. I was already fucked up in a hundred different ways.

"Oh, Eddie my boy," Emmett had said with all of the wisdom that Jack Daniels imparts. "You're tipped…"He giggled at his mess up. "You're _tied_ up in knots over this one."

"Amn't," I had muttered, taking another shot of Jack. I was already wasted, this was just icing on the cake.

Emmett laughed and pulled out his phone. Before I realized what he was doing, he was already talking into it. "Hey, Jasper, get this, Assward has his panties in a bunch over this chick."

I blinked at him, trying to remember for a minute exactly who Jasper was and then I reached for the phone. Unfortunately, I was less than graceful in my inebriated state and tripped over the chaise lounge, falling face first into the concrete. I was briefly grateful that I was drunk because I knew it would have hurt like a bitch otherwise.

Emmett had looked down at me for a moment and then burst into laughter. I had groaned and rolled over on my back, seriously contemplating just sleeping there for the night. "Gotta go, Jasper," Emmett finally snorted. "Assward has fallen…and can't get up!" He started giggling like a twelve year old girl.

I don't remember much after that. I have vague images of leaning against Emmett as he took me to my bedroom. Then Sheba jumped on the bed and licked my face. I might have been bleeding. I'm not sure.

This morning I woke up to find a note from Emmett.

_I slept in the guest bedroom. That mattress is shit. Get a new one._

_Em_

_P.S. You might want to let Bella kiss your boo-boos_.

Sometimes I hate my friends. I really do. I heard a doggie snort – or maybe it was a sneeze. Sheba looked up at me. _Yep, you're an ass_, her dark eyes seemed to say. Then she gave me a look of canine disdain and turned and walked away.

Et tu, Sheba?

_**Bella's POV**_

I wasn't even sure if Edward would show up today. Or if he did, would I see him? He seemed to have a knack for disappearing when I was around. I was beginning to think that I smelled bad or something. The scruffy Adonis was giving me a complex and I didn't like it.

About an hour after lunch was served, I saw a tall, slim form sort of zooming by my office. Ah ha. Mr. Adonis was trying to make his escape. While I usually would have allowed him to do so and considered myself lucky, some perverse character flaw made me step out of my office and call out to him.

"Hey! Edward!" I watched with interest as his shoulders stiffened and he paused for a long moment before turning back toward me with obvious reluctance. That _should_ have offended me. Instead, it made me grin. I was done being the only uncomfortable one. It was time for Scruffy to get a taste of his own medicine.

"Yeah?" he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. _I'd be happy to do that for you, Mr. Adonis_. _I promise, I can squeeze them gently…_

I grinned at him, completely thrilled with his grumpiness. I had no idea why seeing him so _cranky_ made me so _happy_, but it did. I guess I really _was_ a bitch. "I just wanted to thank you for the uh…goop." I pointed to my face which was only slightly pink and didn't hurt at all. "You're right, it smells like dirty socks and ass, but it did the trick."

His eye twitched and he pressed his lips together. "Uh, yeah, whatever…I mean, uh, good."

My smile grew wider as his discomfiture grew. This was more fun than I'd anticipated. He scowled at me, obviously sensing my glee. _Yeah, because the huge shit-eating grin on my face isn't clue enough_? "Anyway, I'm heading out early," he said, looking down at his boots. Oh, boots. Delightful shit-kickers… I had a thing for shit-kickers – especially when worn by sex gods. He glared at his boots as if they had personally offended him. "Uh…and I'm sorry about the other day," he muttered, like a four year old who has been ordered to apologize to his sister.

I couldn't resist. "Oh that's all right, Cullen. I've already figured out that you're an ass." I gave him one last smile and turned and walked away.

Take that, you scruffy Adonis sex god in your shit-kickers.

_**Edward's POV**_

"Oh that's all right, Cullen. I've already figured out that you're an ass."

I watched her walk away, and even my shock wasn't enough to keep from appreciating the sway of her hips and the play of sleek muscle in her tight jeans. Damn, the girl knew how to wear 'em. I wanted to call her on her bullshit, but really, she had it right.

I knew that because Emmett had told me so. The ass hat.

_**Bella's POV**_

An hour later I was in my office, wondering why I felt so damned guilty. Oh yeah, I called Edward Cullen an ass, even after he had saved me from the sunburn from hell. He was gone, so I couldn't apologize, and I was pretty sure I'd have lost my nerve by the next time I saw him, so I decided to sit at my desk and wallow in the guilt.

A quick knock at my door had me looking up, and since I never closed my office door I could see right away that I didn't know my visitor. It was a woman, very slender, even shorter than me, with bright blue eyes and a halo of black hair. I recognized her from the pictures in Edward's house.

"Hi!" she said brightly, as if we had been friends forever and she was dropping in to catch up on the latest news.

"Hello," I replied uncertainly. I wondered if Edward was trying to get back at me for being such a bitch. Maybe she was a biter. I decided to keep a close eye on her.

She danced toward my desk, extending her hand. "I'm Alice," she said. "Alice Brandon."

"Hello, Alice, Alice Brandon," I said, my lips quirking.

She laughed then. "Oh I'm going to like you," she announced.

"Uh…good?" I hoped it was a good thing. It couldn't be _bad_, could it? Well, that remained to be seen. I had a feeling that Alice, Alice Brandon could get me into deep trouble with very little effort.

A delicate snort erupted and I answered with one of my own, less delicate to be sure. "We're going to get along just fine," Alice proclaimed and I already had the feeling that A) she was right, and B) I'd better not argue with her.

"Uh…" I wasn't sure how to ask her who she was and what she was doing here. If she was here for-

"I'm a friend of Edward's," she said, interrupting my train of thought, looking around my dingy little office with curiosity.

"He's gone for the day," I explained, still feeling somewhat dazed. So, how did Edward AKA Scruffy Adonis get such an energetic sprite for a friend? I couldn't picture them being cozy.

"I didn't come to see him," Alice answered breezily, giving me a wide smile. She leaned forward, as if to whisper a secret. "Besides, he's being a bit of an ass right now."

I grinned at her. This Alice person and I were definitely going to get along.


	9. Chapter 9: Take My Balls, Please

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 9: Take My Balls, Please**

"I'm travelin' down that lonesome road.  
Feel like I'm dragging a heavy load.  
Yeah! I've tried to turn my head away,  
Feels about the same most every day."

"Flirting with Disaster," written by Danny Joe Brown, Dan Hlubek, and Banner Thomas, performed by Molly Hatchet. (Danny Joe Brown hailed from Jacksonville, Florida)

_**Bella's POV**_

What was I doing? As I looked out into the hallway by my door for about the millionth time that day, I asked myself that all important question. What the hell was I doing? Why was I so obsessed with Edward Cullen? And what was I going to do about it?

It wasn't like I could pursue him romantically. I was done with that. I was romance kryptonite. I was the anti-love drug. I was…

I was a disaster, is what I was. So why did I continue to think about Edward? Why did I imagine his hands on me? His lips? His..

Oh stop right there, girlfriend!

Then I giggled, remembering his face when I'd told him that Alice had stopped by. His jaw had dropped for a moment and then he'd started sputtering something about "killing that fucking Tinkerbell" and had huffed and scowled for several moments.

"I didn't recognize her at first," I told him. "She's cut her hair short since the pictures in your house and-"

Then Edward had drawn up stiff and cold, his lips pressed together. "If you'll excuse me," he snapped.

And turned and stalked away.

What the hell was up his butt anyway?

_**Edward's POV**_

I already knew I was an ass – courtesy of Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, and Alice. Oh, and Bella too, had been kind enough to remind me. I guess they didn't want me to wonder. I was being rude to Bella, but it seemed the best way to handle this…unexpected attraction to her. So I now was a _rude_ asshole.

And I was a cowboy, too. And a caveman. Not to mention a dirty stalker. These things I already knew. But apparently, I have to add snoop to my growing resume. I didn't _mean_ to be a snoop. Honestly. Bella the Ball Buster was in charge of service requisition forms now, so that she could keep a master list of who needed what and the status of obtaining those services for them. It was a good system, though I hated to admit it. Ms. Swan knew her stuff and was willing to squeeze or bust whatever she had to in order to do it. I respected that.

That meant, however, that any time we had a client who needed services, we had to go to Bella to initiate the request. Usually, I was a chicken shit and sent one of the other volunteers to start the paperwork. Sometimes, Bella liked to yank my chain and brought me the form herself with a bit shitty grin on her face. Sometimes, she sent it along with a little note along the lines of "Here is the form you were so kind as to request through an intermediary." Ass.

Today, however, I figured that I had lucked out because Bella, Ball Buster Extraordinaire wasn't in her office. And the door was opened and unlocked, just like it always was. I gave it a quick knock and peeked in, already coming up with an excuse to get out of her office quick. There were times when I swear Bella was _laughing_ at me, and inventing wild excuses to get in my face. But the expression she wore was always really innocent. Too innocent maybe? Who knew? Only Bella.

So after seeing that Bella wasn't in her office, I gave a little snort of triumphant "ha ha, take that Swan! I win this round!" and made my way to her desk. Now, normally, I'm not nosey. I don't stick my nose into other people's business, mostly because I hate it so much when people do it to me. I respect privacy.

But the drawer was open about three inches. I mean, come on…

It called out to me. It promised that it would reveal all of Bella's secrets and enlighten me as to why I was so obsessed with her. Okay, I was just nosey.

I saw some chapstick (cherry vanilla), a brush, some hair ties (all brown), a notepad (bright purple), a Snickers bar (secret candy stash, good to know), and…

A picture.

Hmmm….very interesting. And private. But she had it in her office, so it couldn't be _too _personal, right? I could see enough of it sticking out from beneath the pad of sticky notes to know that I was looking at a big hand. A _male_ hand. And it was holding _Bella's_ hand.

The plot thickened.

Ignoring the vague ache in my chest, I looked up at the door and listened carefully. The coast seemed to be clear, so using all of my ninja skills, I carefully eased the drawer open and finessed the picture out.

Yep. Most definitely a person of the male type variety.

The guy was a fucking giant, like carnival freak show big. Okay, maybe not that big, but this dude had to be bigger than Emmett, and Emmett was the biggest guy I'd ever seen in person. Unless he was standing on a box or something, which didn't seem likely since he and Bella appeared to be on a beach. They were mugging it up with huge grins for the camera, hands clasped loosely. They looked…happy. Natural.

Feeling like an even bigger snoop, I turned over the picture.

_Jake and Me, La Push_.

_Jake_? Who the fuck was Jake? And what the fuck was a La Push? It sounded dirty. No date. Not helpful at all. Maybe Bella looked slightly younger, but I mean, I still knew who she was. A few years ago then? A lot could happen in a few years. So the odds were that the freak was no longer in the picture. Otherwise, she wouldn't have moved across country. Right? Still…

Mr. Freakshow had long black hair, the high cheekbones of a Native American, and his russet skin provided an interesting contrast to Bella's pale perfection.

Wait. What the fuck?

_Bella's pale perfection?_ I needed to leave that sort of shit to Emmett.

I stared at the picture again, wondering at the vague nudge it evoked in my memory. I didn't know the guy; I was sure of that. But his face was oddly…familiar. The hair, though, the hair was wrong. Maybe I had seen him on one of the programs profiling criminals still at large. Or maybe Chris Hansen had… God, I was an idiot.

Disgusted with myself, on many levels, I replaced the picture, got the form, and then got the hell outta Dodge.

Pale perfection? I might as well let Bella bust my balls. I obviously wasn't using them anymore.

_**Bella's POV**_

I sank down into my office chair with a tired sigh. Leaning forward, I let my face rest in my hands. I loved my job. I really did. It was rewarding in ways that I had never imagined. There were days, however, when the emotional toll of it threatened to overwhelm me.

We couldn't save them all.

That had been the hardest truth to swallow. Some of them were going to slip through the cracks. Some of them were going to refuse our help. And some of them simply didn't want help; they wanted the lives they had chosen. Not many, of course, but a few. They had dropped out of society for one reason or another and they found some sort of peace in that distance. I tried to remind myself that for every one we lost, there were dozens that we helped. There were days I had to hold onto that knowledge with a death grip.

Like today.

Chasey's mom had gone back to her husband/boyfriend/who the hell knew… Now Chasey's mom was on a respirator and not expected to make it. The husband/boyfriend/fuckhead was in jail, and only a day too late for Chasey's mom. Without thinking about it, I was picking up my cell phone and the next thing I knew I heard my dad's voice on the other line.

"Bells?" I could hear the alarm in his voice. He wasn't used to midday calls from his daughter.

"I'm fine," I assured him quickly. I took a deep, shaky breath. "Just having a bad day," I confessed and I heard my dad sigh. As a cop, he could relate to a lot of the heartache I encountered in my job.

"Wanna talk about it?" And there it was, the thing I loved most about Charlie. He didn't hover, he didn't press, and he didn't usually make demands. He listened. It was such a simple gift, and yet I treasured it for its rarity.

"I'm not sure," I said with a sad attempt at laughter.

"Mike Newton got engaged," Charlie said. Subtlety, thy name is not Charlie Swan.

"Oh yeah?" I smiled at Charlie's heavy-handed attempt to both change the subject and try to get information on my non-existent love life. The problem with that is that because he didn't usually pry, he wasn't very good at it. He should know, better than almost anyone, that I didn't have a love life and I never would. Not now. Not ever. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Jessica Stanley," Charlie replied and I could almost see the smirk on his face.

"I'm sure they'll be very happy," I murmured. I knew Jessica would be. She'd had her eye on Mike since high school, though why anyone would want to claim _him_ forever I wasn't sure. He was just so…blah. Still, as my mother once told me, there's a lid for every pot. Well, almost…

There was an awkward silence. "So…uh…is there anyone making _you_ happy these days?"

I snorted. "Charlie, is that your less-than-subtle attempt to ask me if I'm getting any?"

"Oh now, Bells, don't be like that," Charlie muttered after sputtering for a moment. I'd embarrassed him, which was my intent. He was less likely to embarrass _me_ if I struck first. There was a deep sigh. "I don't mean to pry," he said. "You know I just want you to be happy. That's all, Bella." Another pause. "As your father, that's kind of in the job description."

"I know," I muttered, now feeling guilty. "It's just…I need time. Okay?" _Like a lifetime of time_, I thought.

"So…what made your day so bad?" And I knew the subject was dropped. Thank God for Charlie, who could take a hint and move on. Renee would have pounded that shit into the ground.

"Well…you remember how pissed you used to get about the domestic violence cases?"

Just like that, I was pouring my heart out to my father and he was listening without interruption, letting me lance the wound. After it was all over, he simply said, "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, Bells."

"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, now wanting to end the call. "I get it. I do. Listen, I've got to go. Tell…tell everyone I said hello."

Charlie sighed deeply. "All right, Bells. I'll do that. I love you."

I hung up the phone with a weird mixture of relief, guilt, and longing. I missed home. I missed Charlie. I missed…everyone. I just didn't miss them enough to go back and face what I had done. I was a big chicken shit, but at least I knew it.

Looking down at my desk, I frowned. In my secret candy stash drawer I saw it. A picture. _The_ picture. My penance, my reminder. It was out of place. I never kept it where I could see his face. Part of his hand? Okay. His shoulder? I could deal with that. But not his face. _Never_ his face. Someone had been in the drawer. Maybe someone had a craving for chocolate? But no, my Snickers bar was still there, unscathed. What the hell?

Weird.

Sighing, I put the mystery aside and picked up my iPod. I had downloaded a bunch of music last night from Jacksonville bands, trying to get into the psyche and spirit of my new home. Some of them I knew, some of them I had never heard of. Southern Rock had never been something I'd been exposed to a lot, but I found I enjoyed the genre for the most part.

Flipping randomly through the file, I just put it on random and popped in my earbuds. The soft, sad twang of guitars filled my ears, joined by the gentle brush of drums.

_I saw a girl by the river,_

_And she looked so damned fine…_

I turned my attention to my work.


	10. Chapter 10: Southern Comfort

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 10: Southern Comfort**

_"Won't you give me three steps,  
Gimme three steps mister,  
Gimme three steps towards the door?  
Gimme three steps  
Gimme three steps mister,  
And you'll never see me no more."_

"_Gimme Three Steps" Written by Allen Collins and Ronny Van Zant, performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd_

_**Edward's POV**_

So…apparently Bella had decided that there is nothing in the world that was more fun than tormenting me. I was pretty sure she stayed up at night coming up with new ways to torture me. Or maybe it was all innocent and I was reading_ way_ too much into everything. Maybe it was both. I didn't know. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she dogged my footsteps. If I turned around, there she was – grinning up at me like she'd won the lottery. One time I even came out of the restroom to find her studying her cuticles while she waited for me. It was annoying and infuriating, and somehow…almost endearing. I wanted to kiss her when I didn't want to strangle her. But she had skills, that girl. I couldn't even call her out on her shit because she always had a perfectly reasonable and logical explanation for being _where_ I was, _when_ I was there.

_Bullshit_. _I called bullshit._

The smirk on her face and the gleam in her eyes gave her away. She knew she made me uncomfortable. She knew I got tense and anxious when she was around. That was her intention. And she was fucking pushing the envelope every damn time. Then just when I knew I was about to crack and run like the pussy I had become, she'd bite her lower lip and get this sexy shy little smile on her face and retreat. I could almost see her clapping her hands in delight at my anxiety.

It was like a damned military campaign in a war I didn't know had been declared and I was exhausted. I'd been drafted and I wasn't enjoying the battles. She was wearing me down, though for what purpose I couldn't imagine. And I didn't like it – not one bit.

That's what I told myself as I grinned into the mirror every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning.

_**Bella's POV**_

I was such a bitch. I knew I was driving Edward crazy, and not in a good way. He'd started developing this hunted expression the moment he walked in the shelter doors. He would hear me approach and heave a deep sigh before turning to meet me with a look of resignation on his adorable face.

Sadly, I was enjoying the torture too much to stop. Besides, tormenting Edward was an easy way to keep myself from revealing that I was growing more and more attracted to him with every passing day. There were a dozen very good reasons for me _not_ to want him, not the least of which was I didn't deserve anyone in my life, much less a scruffy Adonis with perfect feet. I sighed, pushing away the image of Edward's feet and the perfect, muscular calves that came next, not to mention the taut thighs…

Just then I caught a glimpse of Edward trying to sneak past my office by hiding behind the huge bulk of Raul. I grinned to myself. Silly man, to think he could escape me that easily!

We couldn't have that happening, now could we?

"Oh Edward…." I sang out, trying to stifle my laughter.

_**Edward's POV**_

"Oh Edward!" I felt my whole body go into lockdown. Fight or flight. Make a stand and reclaim my testosterone or run like a bitch? The adrenalin started pumping.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. She'd seen me again. I had really been counting on Raul's hulking form to hide me as I slipped past her office. And I was just three short steps from safety. I was even willing to ignore the weird looks that Raul gave me in order to take shelter in his immense shadow. But no… Ms. Swan had to have the eyes of an eagle or something. Or maybe she sensed fear. I don't know how she did it, but she did. Gritting my teeth, I pretended not to see the smirk on Raul's broad face and turned to gaze at the bane of my existence.

"Yes, Isabella?" I had taken to calling her Isabella mostly because I could tell it annoyed her, and I simply couldn't resist the opportunity to pay back a little of what she dished out.

Her lips tightened for a moment but then she smiled widely and I knew I was in for something painful. Again.

"I need help in the equipment room," Bella said sweetly. She batted her eyelashes at me like she wasn't the devil in tight jeans and a cotton hoodie.

"I'm sure that Zach would be-"

"He's taking a client to the clinic," she interrupted. Why did I have the feeling that she'd deliberately waited until I was the only one available? She smirked at me and I knew I was right.

"What about Raul?" I offered desperately. I looked to where the big chicken had disappeared. I'd get him back if it was the last thing I did.

Bella shook her head slowly, her grin getting wider and wider. "Uh uh," she replied. "Bad back." Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Looks like you're the only one available...and up to the job." That sounded dirty. Then again, pretty much everything sounded dirty to me these days.

I scowled at her. "All right," I conceded without a hint of graciousness. That only seemed to amuse her.

Bella whirled around, releasing a burst of scent from her hair. It was vaguely fruity, but darker…spicier. I had a flashing image of dark sheets and quiet sighs. _Stop it._ The scent was not at all what I'd imagined a delicate woman like Bella wearing. I liked it.

A lot.

_Down boy._

Shoving my hands into my pockets, mostly to adjust myself on the sly, I followed after Bella. The equipment closet was small and dark and musty. And I was going to be pressed up against Isabella Swan far more than I wanted. Well, more than I _needed_ to be. She unlocked the closet with a look of unholy glee on her face and I gave a mental groan.

She had definitely planned this.

_**Bella's POV**_

I decided that I'd let him get comfortable first. So I acted sort of like the crocodile at the watering hole… _just minding my own business, little antelope… don't mind me…just carry one with what you're doing…_ And then…

SNAP!

I giggled thinking about it. God, playing with him was just so much fun.

_**Edward's POV**_

She giggled. God help me, she fucking giggled.

And my pants got tighter.

I was so screwed.

"Down boy," I muttered. I was saying those two words a lot more than I liked lately.

_**Bella's POV**_

Edward's head whipped up as soon as I giggled. Shit. He looked wary and resigned. So maybe I hadn't been as subtle as I had hoped in my attempts to harass him. Really, I wasn't sure where the impulse had come from. It was completely out of sync with my normal behavior. But something about Edward Cullen drove me to it.

When I saw him, I teetered between the mad desire to press him up against a door and have my way with him and an irresistible desire to watch him squirm. I decided that I needed to throw him off the scent, so I began humming a little tune to myself and ignoring him. I let him relax. I lured him in.

He began muttering under his breath, though I couldn't make out the words. He was really adorable when he was flustered.

Of course, he was pretty much adorable all of the time.

Edward Cullen, scruffy Adonis and adorable ass.

_**Edward's POV**_

She wasn't fooling me. She had something up her sleeve and her innocent act just wasn't cutting it anymore. "If she's not careful, I'll introduce Rosalie to her…that'd show her…" I grumbled quietly. Rose had always been the ultimate threat when we were growing up. She'd kept Emmett and Jasper in line. I usually tried to stay on her good side. As I've mentioned before, I liked my balls attached and in working order. Always had.

Suddenly, Bella stopped humming and whirled around to look at me in the dimly lit closet.

"Why don't you have a Southern accent?" she asked unexpectedly. "Are you a transplant here, like me?"

I grinned at her, sensing I might be able to get the upper hand here. For once. Maybe. I leaned in close and gave her what Alice called my "panty dropping" smile, hoping she'd see it in the gloom. "Well now, ma'am…" I drawled, deliberately drawing out my syllables and lowering my voice. I was, at heart, a good ole boy and I was going to play it up. "I am a Southern boy, born and bred, I assure you." I was laying it on thick now. "But my mama, she always wanted me to be college educated, so when I went to school, I sorta learned to speak proper like. Just like you big city folks." I fluttered my lashes at her. I could talk like a good ole boy with the best of them. I'd been surrounded by it my whole life and I sounded like I'd been raised up on grits and cornbread and greens – which I had. My mama was practically a gourmet cook of traditional Southern cuisine.

Bella scowled at me, looking too adorable for my peace of mind.

Point one for Cullen. Take that, Swan.

Her eyes narrowed as if she sensed my inner dialogue. "Where did you go to college?"

I laughed and put my lips next to her ear. She shivered. "There's only one place that any self-respecting Southern boy would go to get educated, Ms. Swan." She turned to look at me and the movement put her lips just millimeters away from mine it seemed. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face, smell the hint of peppermint. Briefly, I closed my eyes and imagined how soft her lips would be.

"And where's that?" she asked breathlessly. I wondered what else might make her voice sound that way.

_Down boy._

"University of Florida, ma'am," I answered with a wink. "Go Gators." I smirked. "We bleed orange and blue, you know."

She considered that for a moment and then she rolled her eyes. "That's in Gainesville, less than two hours away!"

I pulled away from her then, afraid I'd kiss her if I stayed close. I shrugged. "Seriously, I just sort of lost it along the way."

Bella huffed and turned away from me.

But she wasn't humming anymore, and that made _me_ want to sing.

Damn. I'm good.


	11. Chapter 11: The Ultimate WMD

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 11: The Ultimate WMD**

"_You say I'm stuck somewhere back in between  
My blurred memories  
Some say I kicked myself right in the face  
I'm not as I seem."_

"_Closer" Written by Bobby Amaru and Damien Starkey, performed by Burn Season_

_**Bella's POV**_

I wondered if mothers took some sort of course on guilt. Did they get instruction in the maternity wards? Or when they signed the adoption papers? Was there some sort of secret sisterhood that only those called "Mother" knew about? Were they as protective and as secretive as the mob? I was starting to think that the idea had some basis in fact.

My mom must be some sort of mob boss. With four little words she made me change my plans and apologize. "Well…if you're _sure_…"

Mom guilt: the ultimate weapon of mass destruction.

Okay, okay, I got it. It was Mother's Day and my mother had every right to expect a visit from me, especially since we lived in the same town. A visit I was fine with. Spending the afternoon with her? All right, I could live with that. But then she pulled out the big guns and here I was, stuck with her and Phil for the whole freaking day and trying to eat whatever it was that her somewhat scrambled brain had concocted for dinner.

It had beans in it…and pineapple…and I wasn't sure what else. Even Phil was sweating a little bit as he tucked in another mouthful. He looked at me with a chagrined smile and swallowed hard.

Phil was a braver person than I was. I was stashing most of it in a large napkin in my lap. I'd stop for pizza on the way home.

"How is it, sweetie?" Mom asked.

"Just as good as I remembered," I answered, somewhat honestly at least. Phil gave a muffled snort and took another bite.

He must _really_ love her.

_**Edward's POV**_

"Hi Mom," I said, kissing her cheek. "Happy Mother's Day." I handed her the gift I'd picked out for her. Not flowers; she would have laughed in my face. My mom had a secret passion for books about assassins and spies and worldwide disaster. It was almost cute; though there were times I wished she would have had a stash of trashy romance novels in her closet instead. She felt the present and grinned. She knew exactly what it was. She had trained me well.

"That's my boy," she said approvingly.

"Where's Gram?" I asked, taking a seat.

"She's taking a nap," Mom replied.

I frowned. "Is she feeling okay? That isn't like her."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Your grandmother had a late night out," she supplied. "With the boys."

I laughed. "Her biker club?"

Mom sighed. "You try so hard to bring them up right and then go and get all wild on you."

"You did your best," I commiserated with her.

"Ha!" I turned to see my grandmother smiling at us. "I've_ always_ been wild."

I got to my feet and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Gram," I said. "You're looking…rested." I leaned in close. "You know, if you're going to party like that you need to call. We worry about you, young lady."

"Smart ass," Gram muttered as she sat down. Then she looked at up at me slyly. "I got a sweet new tat last night."

Mom shook her head and mumbled something under her breath.

"You did?" I grinned at her. "Let me see."

With a childish smirk of guilty pleasure, she pushed up the sleeve of her tee-shirt and I saw the phoenix. It was an exact replica of –

"Yes," she said softly. "It's perfect, isn't it?"

I ran my fingers lightly around the outline of the tattoo. "He'd have liked it," I said softly.

"Well," Gram said. "He had great taste." She looked at my mother. "In all things."

"Flattery won't get you out of cleaning the bathrooms," Mom said with a wink. "It's your turn."

"She's so bossy," Gram observed.

"She has to be," I reminded her. "You're the original wild child, remember?"

"Oh…that's right," Gram said with a slight sigh. "But it's so much fun." She poured herself a huge mug of coffee and gulped down a bit of the strong, black brew. "So," Gram said with a casual air. "What's this I hear about a girl?"

I groaned and sat back in my seat. "I'm gonna kill Emmett."

Mom frowned at me. "Well, I'm grateful to him," she told me. "But I should have heard it from you. Not Emmett."

"It's nothing, Mom," I insisted. "We're not…anything. She just started working at the shelter. She's…" I sighed. "She's infuriating, if you want to know the truth."

Mom and Gram exchanged a look that probably meant volumes in female-speak. I shook my head. "Stop it, you two. Just stop it. It's nothing. She's nothing special. Just a pain in my ass."

My mom shrugged but gave Gram a pointed look. Gram returned the shrug. I hate female-speak. No male could ever learn it. Ever. Mom reached out and patted my hand like I was four years old. "All right, son," she said softly. "If you say so."

Emmett was a dead man.

Dead. Man.

_**Bella's POV**_

It was _finally_ Friday. Thank goodness. I had only tormented Edward twice today. Raul had kept him busy outside with some yard maintenance. When I had asked Raul where Edward was, he gave me this little smile and told me he was "outside sweating like the pig he is."

Well now, wasn't that interesting. Then Raul winked at me and told me that I needed to "let the boy get some real work done for a change." I laughed and retreated back to my office. I would just start planning my strategies for Monday. Then Edward had gone home early and I was getting sort of bored. Just about the time I had decided to go home alone and face a turkey sandwich and bad television, my cell phone chirped.

It was my neighbor, Angela. We had met last weekend when we were both getting our mail at the same time. She seemed almost as shy as I used to be, so I initiated the conversation and almost squealed like a tweenager when I noticed she had Pride and Prejudice in her stack of movie rentals. We spent the evening discussing the various versions of Pride and Prejudice in film. And then P&P continuations, and alternatives universes. There was a rich vein of discussion to be mined. This led to much speculation on how good the "real" Mr. Darcy would have been in bed.

We both felt that he would have been "fuck hot" which of course, reminded me of my own Scruffy Adonis. She forced me to spill the beans so I shared with her my strange fascination with harassing said Adonis. A bottle of wine had loosened us both up and we began formulating different plans guaranteed to make his life a living hell.

Now, she was saving me from questionable deli meat and a night of reruns. It seemed I was going to have my first real Florida bar-hopping night. I couldn't wait.

_**Edward's POV**_

The bar was crowded. No surprise there. It was Friday night and everyone had gotten paid. Emmett was beside me flirting up their waitress. I watched as she walked away, swinging her hips the whole way. Emmett's eyes never wavered from the view. Finally, I had had enough and punched my friend in the arm. I had suddenly remembered what Emmett had coming to him anyway, so the punch served dual purposes.

"Ouch!" Emmett rubbed his arm. "What the hell was that for?"

"For running your big fat mouth to my mother," I said with a smirk.

"That was last week," Emmett complained, still frowning and massaging his injured arm.

"Yeah, well, it just suddenly pissed me off again," I told him. "You've had it coming."

"Quit being a bitch," Emmett muttered. "Jeez…"

"Just so you know, there is no _thing_ with Bella," I said firmly.

"Sure," Emmett agreed way too easily. I narrowed my eyes at him. He held up his hands in surrender. "Sure. I hear you. I've got it. No 'thing' with Bella." He saluted me and snapped his heels together smartly. "I hear and obey."

"Fuck you," I grumbled, taking another sip of my beer. I let my eyes roam around the bar, not really taking an interest in anyone or anything. I just had not wanted to be alone with my thoughts tonight and Emmett's invitation to go out seemed an acceptable alternative. The natives were restless tonight, I noted. My eyes passed over two brunettes standing at the bar. One was happily chatting away to man with brown hair and a leather jacket. I pegged him for a biker right away, but he seemed mellow enough.

Then my eyes went back to what had caught my eye to begin with – or rather who.

Bella Swan. Out. And dressed to kill. Shit. For someone so short, she had legs that went on for about five miles. Long, sleek legs that were pale in comparison to the deep purple of her dress. If you could call it a dress. It looked more like a shirt that had been drafted into dress duty if you asked me. What the hell was she_ thinking_, dressing like that and coming to a place like this? Around guys like…well, _me_?

Emmett had followed my gaze and stood up straight. "Well now," he said. "I think I need to go an introduce myself."

"Hold on," I said, having taken note of the man standing beside Bella. Short, military hair-cut, he was young, probably just barely drinking age. It looked as if he had been fully exercising his right to ingest alcohol. He was putting his face up close to Bella's and she was trying to lean away from him and still maintain a tight, little smile. "I know her," I said as I nudged Emmett.

"Niiicceee…" Emmett drawled. "That must be Bella. You know, the girl you don't have a thing with."

"I don't think she's very comfortable with her companion," I told him, gesturing toward the pair and ignoring his words.

Emmett frowned. "No…I think you're right." He cracked his knuckles. "Shall we go rescue Legs?"

I rolled my eyes at him, barely restraining myself from punching him again. He had no right to be noticing Bella's legs. No right at all. I blithely ignored my own musing about said body parts. Emmett and I made our way through the crowd and came to a halt in front of Bella and her admirer.

"Isabella," I said, putting my hand out for hers and drawing her close. "I thought I'd never find you in this crowd."

A flash of shock in her expression, then understanding. She smiled widely. "Eddie, sweetheart, I knew you'd track me down sooner or later." She turned to her disappointed admirer. "It was very nice chatting with you." She nudged her friend. "I'll be right back, Ang. Okay?"

Her friend turned and looked at me with wide eyes. "You sure?" she asked, turning her scrutiny toward Emmett.

"I'll just be a minute," Bella promised. Then she linked her arm through mine and we pushed our way outside. "Thank you," she breathed.

I pulled away and scowled at her. "What were you thinking?" I demanded.

"Excuse me?" Bella's hands went to her hips and she took a step forward.

"It's the fifteenth, Bella," I hissed.

"Oh Edward," she said with an overly sweet smile. "You've learned how to use a calendar. I'm so proud of you. Maybe next week we can work on telling time."

"Very funny," I snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You are not amused," Bella rolled her eyes. "So it's the fifteenth. And…?"

"And that means that it is military pay day, and the bars are all crawling with horny sailors just looking to get drunk...and laid." I ran my hands through my hair. Didn't she see the recklessness in what she –

"So, I shouldn't go to bars on the fifteenth?" She asked archly.

"No," I muttered. "I mean, yes, that's fine, but you shouldn't dress so…" I gestured up and down her body. "So…"

"So _normal_?" Bella suggested. "So age and place appropriate?"

I rolled my eyes at her and practically growled in my frustration. I caught sight of Emmett out of the corner of my eye. He walked to Bella and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Emmett, I'm a friend of the crazy man over here."

"Emmett?" Bella asked. "Oh, you're the guy who gets poor Sheba plastered."

Emmett smirked. "Hey, she likes it."

Bella flushed. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong." She smiled. "And I believe you. She's got that look about her…likes to indulge if you know what I mean."

"That's what I tell Cullen here," Emmett replied. I wanted to punch that grin right off his face. His gaze flickered toward me. "Anyway, we just wanted to make sure you were all right." Emmett pointed to me. "He's not usually this mentally unbalanced," he explained.

"Really?" Bella said doubtfully, looking thoughtful. "Actually, I think he is."

"Hello? Still right here," I muttered.

Bella laughed. "Would you and the crazy man like to join us?"

"No," I swiftly answered. "We were just leaving."

Emmett wanted to disagree; I could see it in his face. But I gave him the look that told him he'd damn well better not argue the point. Not now. Not here. "Uh, yeah… We were just leaving." He shrugged. "Just be careful. Edward was right about that. It's gets a little crazy in these places on the first and fifteenth – especially if it's a weekend. Just watch yourself." He looked toward the bar, the music and laughter and voices spilling out into the street. "They need to cut loose, but there's always the idiot that hasn't learned to hold his booze yet."

"Thanks," Bella said quietly, shooting me a look I couldn't quite interpret. "For everything." Then she turned and walked away.

Without even looking, I punched Emmett in the arm again. Hard. "Ass," I hissed.

"So _I'm_ the ass, Edward?" He poked me in the chest. "You'd better get your shit together, Cullen."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "If I have to explain then you're even stupider than I thought." Emmett huffed. "And that's saying a lot, believe me."


	12. Chapter 12: I'm Too Sexy for My Life

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 12: I'm Too Sexy for My Life**

Am I really screaming loud,  
Do I even make a sound,  
Can I really scream out loud,  
When there's no-one to hear me.

Won't you save me,  
Cause I'm slipping away,  
Just save me from myself,  
Cause all these angry voices,  
Are making my choices,  
Please save me from myself.

"Save Me" performed by Burn Season

_**Edward's POV**_

Jasper settled into his chair with a beer and gave a satisfied sigh. We were on the balcony, overlooking the beach, listening to the waves and the music and chilling. I should have known it wouldn't last.

"So…her name is Bella, huh?" Jasper said quietly.

"Shut it," I warned.

Jasper took another sip of his beer. "You know, Edward, it's not a crime to like a woman."

"What did I just say?" I growled. "Shut. It."

Turning to look at me, Jasper shook his head. "I just don't get it, man."

"Shut it, meaning don't talk. Don't discuss. Just shut the hell up," I clarified for him.

"You know what I mean," Jasper retorted. "Is it really such a bad thing to finally get yourself all twisted up over a woman?"

"Yes," I snapped. "And you know why."

"History doesn't always repeat itself, Edward," Jasper said quietly and with great patience. "As much as you like to wallow in the thought, you're _not_ cursed you know."

"I beg to differ," I muttered. "Besides, I'm not all twisted up. She makes me crazy, yes. She infuriates me, granted. And there are times when I just want to shake her until her teeth rattle, for sure. But I am_ not_ twisted up over Bella Swan."

"Riiigghhhhttt," Jasper drawled. "And in between being pissed off and crazy, do you ever just want to grab her and kiss the fuck out of her? Maybe shove her up against a wall and make sweet, crazy love to her?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and scowled at my beer. "No," I snapped. A lie. Big, whopping lie. So now I had to add liar to my growing list of accomplishments. I was definitely on a roll.

Jasper stared at me for a moment. "You're so full of shit," he accused with all of the certainty that only a lifetime friend can muster up.

"Last chance to shut it, buddy," I warned again.

Jasper sighed and rolled back to face the ocean, taking another gulp of beer. "Whatever," he murmured and closed his eyes. "Carl Joe would kick your ass, Edward." His words were quietly spoken, but I felt the rage and pain surge through me on a red tide.

"Seriously, Jasper," I ground out between clenched teeth. "Don't go there. Just…don't."

_**Bella's POV**_

I groaned as I heard my cell phone sing out. Angela and I had gotten in late last night, but both of us had come home alone. I had been tempted to pick up a random guy, just someone to satisfy that itch, but in the end it just hadn't been…right. Try as I might, I couldn't become that girl, the one who just had sex indiscriminately and then moved on. And right now I really, _really_ wanted to be her. That little glitch was really going to complicate my life.

"Hello," I rasped.

"Bells?" It was Charlie. I sat up straight.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Why would you think something's wrong?" Charlie sounded amused.

"What time is it?" I blinked, trying to focus on the clock by my bed. Huh. Noon.

"Well, I'm guessing its noon where you are," Charlie replied. "Rough night?"

"Uh, not really," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I just went out with a friend."

"A male type friend?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"No," I replied. "A female type friend."

"Oh." Charlie sounded disappointed.

"Did you call with a specific purpose in mind, Dad?"

"Can't a father call his daughter without having something up his sleeve?" Now Charlie sounded offended, which immediately made me suspicious. The man had skin thicker than an alligator.

"No," I grumbled.

"Okay, okay," Charlie relented. "Listen, Billy's birthday is tomorrow and I was wondering if you'd give him a call."

I was silent for such a long time that Charlie finally asked if I was still there.

"Yeah, I'm here, Dad," I sighed. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea." I paused. "And I'm sure I'm the last person he'd want to hear from."

"Why would you think that?" Charlie sounded genuinely surprised. Suddenly, I wondered what Charlie and Billy talked about on those interminable fishing trips. It was inevitable that "The Night" would come up, of course, the night that had changed my life – and Jake's – irrevocably.

"I don't know, Charlie," I said at last. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking," Charlie assured me. "And…if it'll make any difference, Jake'll be out of town. So, you know, he wouldn't answer the phone or…" Charlie heaved a sigh. "Just in case you were worried about that."

I had, in fact, been very worried about that. It was a relief to know that if I worked up the courage to actually call that I wouldn't have to worry about facing my worst nightmare. Then curiosity burned a path along my synapses. "Uh, where is Jake going to be?"

Charlie paused for a moment. "He's checking out a coaching job." That was it. No more information. I wanted to ask, I _needed_ to ask, but I couldn't.

"Well, that's great," I muttered. "Uh, that's great." Repeat yourself much? "Yeah, Dad, I've gotta go. Tons of stuff to take care of for the week."

"Yeah, Bells, I've got you," Charlie was sounding amused again. "Talk to you later. And be careful."

"Always am."

"That's my girl."

I sighed. I guess they gave fathers guilt lessons too. Shit.

The next day at work I stared at my phone. Until it was lunch time I could convince myself that it was far too early to call. I blithely ignored the fact that Billy routinely got up way before dawn – even when he didn't have to. That was a character flaw in my opinion, but I always overlooked it because Billy Black was like a second father to me.

I was procrastinating. I had it down to a fine science. It wasn't as easy as the amateurs made it out to be. Finally, after I finished my lunch, sitting at my desk alone, I decided that enough was enough. I'd only feel worse as the day went on. I owed it to Billy to pull up my big girl panties and act like a grown up.

Sometimes I _hate_ being a grown up.

I punched in the numbers I had memorized a lifetime ago and waited, holding my breath.

"Hello?"

_**Edward's POV**_

Something was wrong. Bella hadn't tormented, harassed, or teased me today. In fact, she hadn't left her office. _All day_. Not once. Well, she had left _once_ – to go to the bathroom. How sad was it that I knew that? I should have been dancing and singing Hallelujah because the day had actually been peaceful.

And really, really boring.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Now here I was, about to take a stick and poke it through the bars of the tiger's cage and walk into her office _voluntarily_. I took a deep breath and prepared to knock on the door which was just slightly ajar.

My hand stopped in mid-air.

"Happy Birthday, Billy," Bella said.

Billy? First this Jake person and now a Billy? What was up with this woman? I scowled at the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I know…Charlie called me yesterday, but you know I'd never forget."

What. The. Fuck. Now there was a _Charlie_ too? She laughed and I pictured some asshole on the other end telling her all the things he'd like to do to her delectable body. Not that I'd come up with my own list or anything. Definitely _not._

I pressed my lips together and just barely restrained myself from beating my head on her doorframe.

"Yeah, things are going good here," she said and I heard her chair squeak like she was twirling around in it. "I'm getting used to it."

Getting used to what?

I heard her laugh uneasily now and I wondered if this Billy character had overstepped his boundaries. Did he need a lesson in manners? I'd be happy to give him one.

"Uh…no…there's no one…" Her words trailed off. Then I heard her begin tapping a pencil on her desk. She did that whenever she was frustrated. An annoying habit, really. Then again, Bella Swan was an annoying woman period. "Yeah, Charlie told me about that. It sounds like a great opportunity for him…" She paused. "Jake would be great at that. I know he'll get it."

Get it? Get what? Get an STD? I could only hope. Jake sounded no better than this Billy, but apparently they knew each other. Surely the three of them didn't –

I realized what I was doing. I finally figured out just how out of control I really was.

I closed my eyes really tight and tried very hard not to listen in on Bella's conversation. Of course, I heard everything anyway. And I could have solved the whole dilemma by actually moving _away_ from her door. But I seemed rooted to the floor, my feet physically incapable of moving me.

"I miss you too, Billy," Bella said in a soft low voice. It was the voice of a lover. "I miss everyone. I just had to…" Bella sighed. "I just had to leave. There was too much there."

A pause. I held my breath. Too much what? What had been too much for Bella Swan, Ball Buster Extraordinaire?

"I'm not sure when I'll be back," Bella replied to whatever it was this Billy had asked. "I'm not ready. And I don't think Jake is either."

Shit. Jake again. I was beginning to really hate this guy and I'd never set eyes on him. Was it a bad break-up that had sent her running to Florida?

_I'd put her back together again_, a small voice said in my head.

_Oh yes, because you are __**so**__ together, Cullen_.

Point taken.

I had no business trying to "fix" Bella Swan. I was far too messed up myself to even contemplate being of help to anyone else. I had, as Emmett had so often reminded me, my own shit to sort out.

"Okay," Bella said. "You take care. And tell…tell everyone hello for me."

I heard her settle the phone onto her desk and then I heard the last sound in the world that I expected.

Bella Swan – crying.


	13. Chapter 13: You Bug Me, Bella Swan

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 13: You Bug Me, Bella Swan**

"_How did I get here  
And what went wrong  
Couldn't handle forgiveness  
Now I'm far beyond gone  
And I can hardly remember  
The look of my own eyes  
How could I love this  
A life so dishonest  
It made me compromise" – "Save Me" by Shinedown_

_**Edward's POV**_

I didn't see Bella the rest of Monday afternoon. I wasn't at the shelter on Tuesdays, and even my tutoring sessions proved to be unequal to the task of diverting my attention from Bella. School was winding down and the students had fewer assignments and thus less need for my help. For the most part, we ended up simply sitting around and discussing topics of importance to them, from the latest music to hopes they had for their own futures. The only time I had any peace at all was at the food bank and that's because Mike worked me like a dog. I was very grateful.

On Wednesday, I was pretty sure that the old ball-busting Bella would be back in full force. I hoped so anyway. I'd be willing to put up with any amount of harrassment in order to drive the sound of her weeping from my head. As I walked by her office, however, I heard nothing except the soft tap of her keyboard. She was in there, but I couldn't discern her mood by simple keystrokes. I considered popping my head into her office and mouthing off to her just to see what sort of reaction I'd get, but I resisted the urge. Better to see what her mood was like first.

Three hours later, I still hadn't seen Bella. I had heard her quietly discussing an issue with Marion, then in the kitchen with Raul talking about the meal plan for next week. Then a phone call to check on some requested services for a young mother. Bella always went above and beyond her job description and I knew the shelter had been lucky to hire her. Heaven knew the paycheck wasn't much of an incentive.

_Yes, but maybe getting away from Jake and Billy and Charlie was_, a snide little voice reminded me. I was still wondering how best to approach her when I heard a scream echo through the air. It was coming from Bella's office.

_**Bella's POV**_

Where was that stupid file? I swear, I needed to come up with a better system than the piles that currently adorned my desk. Shit. I was muttering under my breath when I saw _it_.

Holy fuck.

_It_ was a bug. The biggest fucking bug I'd ever seen in my life. And I did the only thing any rational person could do.

I screamed.

The door was shoved open two seconds later, or maybe it was two hours, I wasn't sure. It felt more like two hours. Edward looked frantic and glanced around, looking for the source of the danger. All I knew was that I had somehow ended up standing my chair. There was no way in hell I was putting my feet on the floor where that beast lurked.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked.

I pointed down at the floor, where I saw the hideous antennae whirling around, probably looking for _me_. He moved around my desk to get a look. Then he smirked. "Uh yeah, Bella, that's a bug."

"It's not a bug," I insisted. "It's bugzilla. It's the bug that ate Jacksonville. It's the size of a fucking Volkswagen."

"It's a water bug," he informed me, as he quickly stepped on it. Crunch. Gross. Then he was calmly grabbing a tissue from my desk and plucking it up from the floor. I closed my eyes when I heard another crunch. I was afraid I'd vomit. Then I heard him walking away and from down the hall I heard the flush of a toilet.

A moment later I heard him say, "You can get down now." I opened my eyes. "It's safe. Bugzilla has left the building." His voice was dry...amused. Fucker.

Gingerly, I climbed down from my perch. "That was no fucking _bug_," I muttered. "It was a creature from Jurassic Park or something."

"I hate to tell you, but that's how we grow 'em here in the South," Edward drawled, once more playing up his Southern accent.

I brushed back my hair and tried, in vain I was sure, to look cool and collected. I met his eyes and grimaced. "I hate bugs. Okay?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "I'd say hate is kind of an understatement."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I know, I know. It's completely girly and embarrassing," I admitted. "Snakes? No problem. Spiders? Bring them on! Lizards? I'd keep them as pets. But bugs…?" I shuddered. "Well, mostly just roachy bugs. Little bugs don't bother me."

"Roachy bugs?" he asked. Laughter gleamed in his green eyes. Bastard.

I shrugged. "You know, bugs that look all roachy." Duh.

"Bugs that resemble roaches?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" I shoved him aside, though I was keeping a careful eye on the floor. What if bugzilla had a girlfriend?

"You gonna be okay in here…all alone?" he asked with that signature smirk.

"Listen, I know. I'm a total girl when it comes to roaches," I confessed. "But I'm…" I stopped and made a face. "They gross me out – totally and completely. And I'm not easily grossed out."

"Oh really?" Skepticism dripped from his voice.

I took a step toward him. "I'll have you know I once ate a worm." I poked him in the chest to drive home my point. Well, that and the fact that I wanted to see if his chest was as firm as it looked. It was.

"Now that's gross," Edward said, making a face.

"Well, I was seven and my best friend double-dog dared me, so you can see why I was compelled to do so," I informed him archly.

"Oh well, that's completely understandable," Edward agreed with a grin.

"Of course then I threw up all over him so the joke was really on him," I added. My smile faded a bit. Jake. I missed him so much.

"Him?" Edward asked curiously.

I pretended to be busy arranging the papers on my desk. "Uh yeah, my best friend," I replied. "His name is Jake."

Edward blinked at me for a long moment and then the weirdest thing happened.

He grinned and his eyes burned with an unholy green fire. "Your best friend, huh?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Good to know," he said and turned and walked out of my office.

I heard him whistling.

Men were weird.

_**Edward's POV**_

So, this Jake guy was just a friend. A _best_ friend, but still, he had been put firmly in the _friend_ category. And every guy knew there was no getting out of _that_ once it happened. And while it had nothing to do with me personally, it was good to know that Jake wasn't a boyfriend, if only because that made it less likely that Bella would be leaving the shelter and running back to Washington. My only interest was in protecting the shelter's residents.

Sure, Cullen, sure.

Down boy.

The rest of the day passed quickly. I was guessing that no more "roachy" bugs had invaded Bella's office (not that she had seen anyway) because I didn't hear any more screaming. The sight of her perched on top of her chair had been astounding…and adorable.

Wait.

What the fuck?

Since when is the image of a woman standing on an office chair adorable? I needed a break. I was just about to leave for the day when I heard Bella call out my name. I had been hoping for a small truce since I had been kind enough to save her from "Bugzilla" but it seemed that wasn't in the cards.

"Hey, Edward!"

I turned reluctantly and forced a smile on my face. "Yeah?"

She came to a halt before me, biting her lower lip. "Uh…I was wondering…uh…if you wanted to…maybe…get a drink?" Her voice was very unsure there at the end.

"Why?" I asked before I could think about it.

"Well, I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue earlier today," she replied, still nibbling at her lip and keeping her eyes on the floor.

"It was just a bug, Bella," I reminded her.

She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Listen, just think of this as a truce, okay?"

"I didn't know we were at war," I teased. It struck me as odd that she was thinking of this as a truce too.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Sure you didn't." She smirked at me. "If we weren't at war, then what was with those canon balls you kept lobbing over my walls?"

"All right, Swan," I said with exaggerated reluctance. "I'll let you buy me a drink. I did, after all, save you from Bugzilla, so it's the least you could do."

She rolled her eyes but grinned at me. "Where should we meet?"

I shook my head. "Follow me, you can park at my house and then I'll drive us to a little place I know."

She looked at me intently for a moment. "You're not going to get me drunk and then have your way with me, are you?"

I tilted my head and smirked at her. "I considered it, I'll give you that much. But no…not my style. I like my women awake and aware and…" I stopped and shook my head. "Never mind, we don't need to go there, do we?"

"Probably not," she agreed. "All right then, I'll follow you."

_**Bella's POV**_

Jane's Pub was a little hole-in-the-wall place and only a few minutes away from Edward's house. It was a "joint" that only the loyal locals seemed to know about. Several shouted greetings welcomed Edward when we walked in and he led me to a small corner booth. To our right was a juke box, which was silent at the moment. Looking around, I saw lots of music memorabilia and I perused some of it as Edward ordered us some beers (after clearing it with me first). There was some Skynyrd stuff, some pictures of long-haired musicians with long-haired fans that looked like they were from the 70s and 80s. There was even a stuffed gator head. What made it unique was that the gator had a set of drum sticks wedged in his gaping jaws.

Florida was…different.

Our waitress was about sixty years old, pinched Edward's cheek, and called him sweetie. I loved her immediately, especially when she warned him to treat me like a lady.

"That means killing bugs, mister," I told him with an emphatic nod.

"I already did that," he reminded me with that adorable smirk.

"One bug assassination does not a gentleman make," I said. I looked around. "Nice place."

"I like it," Edward shrugged. "My friends and I hang out here a lot."

"Yeah, it seems like they know you." I nudged him with my elbow.

"They do," Edward agreed and leaned in to whisper, his lips much closer to my ear than the noise level in the pub dictated. "They know my mom and my Gram too, and I'd bet before the door closes when we leave our waitress, whose name is Dot by the way, will be on the phone to her friend Charlotte, who will then be on the phone to her friend Milly, who will promptly call my mother in the morning."

I laughed. "Sounds like you can't get away with much in this town."

Edward rolled his eyes. "You have no idea."

"Then why not live somewhere else?" I asked, only half-kidding.

He was silent for a moment, ripping at the label of his beer bottle. "I went away to college, but my mom is here, and Gram…" His eyes shot toward me from beneath his killer lashes and he licked his lips. He really had to stop doing that. It wasn't good for my sanity. "I traveled for a while, but in the end I just felt like I should be here."

"I get it," I said quietly. We were both silent for a moment, but comfortably so.

"So, what about you?" he asked. "What brings you across the country to the First Coast?"

I smiled and wondered what version of the truth I should give him. "I needed a change," I finally said. That was nothing less than the truth, even it was not complete.

Edward studied me for a moment, his green eyes penetrating and seeing far more than I was comfortable with. I squirmed in my seat. "Sometimes it's good to get away when things get too…intense."

I looked down at the table, knowing I was only seconds away from blurting out far too much information. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. To my shock, Edward's hand came to a rest over mine and he gave my fingers a comforting, platonic squeeze. Then his lips were at my ear again. "I'm glad you moved here," he said softly.


	14. Chapter 14: Take My Friends

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 14: Take My Friends…I'm Begging You**

_**Edward's POV**_

Our evening at the bar proved to be a turning point. No longer was Bella the Ball Busting Snark Queen – at least around me. Sure, she still called me out on my shit, but without the note of disdain that had been there earlier. Who knew that all I had to do was kill a bug for her? I would have let a dozen of them loose in her office and gone to her rescue weeks earlier if I'd known that.

Live and learn.

I found myself happier than I'd been in…well, years.

Of course, it had been too much to hope that my newfound change of attitude would escape the notice of my friends. No such luck. I had pretty much hidden from them the weekend following the Bugzilla Incident. But they still had phones and I still hadn't learned the fine art of screening.

Then on Monday, Emmett dropped by unexpectedly and started off the festivities by giving my dog a whole beer. Sheba just gazed up at him in adoration and actually gave me a tiny sneeze when I ordered her to go lay down. She ignored me. I told Emmett to o away. He ignored me too.

Sometimes, my friends were a real pain in the ass.

Tuesday passed slowly, but Wednesday found me back at the shelter. Bella was out most of the day. According to Marion she was bullying a council member about promised funding. Apparently, she was really good at it as our funding had increased by 6% in the short time Bella had been at the shelter. Bella wasn't above begging, bullying, and would even skirt the hairy edge of blackmail if needed. Simply put, she was a funding pit bull.

Thursday was busy with little projects and a quick meeting with my financial advisor so that I could make sure that I still had money to live on. She assured me that I did. Tanya was both aggressive and conservative in how she handled my money. She had managed to help us ride out the last two years of financial mayhem with no damage, which was a miracle in itself. She'd never steered me wrong and I trusted her advice. My mom had her money invested with Tanya too, and she was practically a member of the family. We had invested the money my father made wisely and it had provided a comfortable income for my whole life. Tanya made sure that it continued to do so.

On Friday morning, before I could even get my sorry ass out of bed, my phone rang and it was Alice. I groaned. I had really hoped to avoid her for a while longer, but I should have known that the Poets' gossip machine would be working overtime. "So…" Alice said.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow…is that going to be at your house?" Alice sounded doubtful.

"What?"

She sighed impatiently. I was such a trial to her at times. "Tomorrow night, dumb ass. It's Cut-Loose Saturday."

I groaned. "Really, Alice? Do we still have to call it that?"

When we were in high school, or just out of it, we had started a Dead Poets Cut-Loose Saturday, meeting four times a year and pretty much partying until we physically couldn't anymore. We had slowed down in the past five or six years. We tended to stop _before _we puked, which was progress. Hangovers were much harder to recover from after your early twenties. I knew that from hard experience.

Alice sighed again, sounding much put upon. "That's what it's called, Edward. So yes, we still have to call it that." Now she sounded like she was talking to a slightly stupid child.

"Fine," I agreed, just wanting to end the conversation. "My house, eight o'clock. Is that all?"

She paused for a moment. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

** ~Scars~**

Bella had a busy schedule lined up for her on Friday. I heard her grumbling about it when we met in the break room. She told me I looked tired.

"My friend Alice called me before the sun was up," I muttered.

Bella laughed. "Yeah, she does seem like she's got Monster in her bloodstream or something."

"You have no idea," I groaned. "The Red Bull people were going to hire her to be their spokesperson and then said she was too hyper – would give the product a bad name." Bella snorted a little and then looked embarrassed, so I pretended not to notice. "Anyway," I continued, holding up my coffee mug. "I'm going to start mainlining caffeine now so I'll be ready to face her again."

"Oh yeah, party at your house tomorrow right?"

I was too shocked to do more than nod. Bella was at the door before I could gather my thoughts. "I'll see you there. Eight, right?"

Before I could answer _that_, she was gone and I didn't see her the rest of the day. 

** ~Scars~**

"Alice," I hissed into the phone that evening. "Please tell me that you didn't do what I think you did!"

"What do you think I did, Edward? I'm not a mind reader you know."

"Mary Alice Brandon," I managed to get out between clenched teeth.

"You need to get laid, Edward. You're cranky," Alice said breezily. "Or at least rub one out."

"So help me, Alice, one of these days I'm going to-"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before."

And then she hung up on me.

**~Scars~**

So Alice had invited Bella to our Saturday. I couldn't remember a non-Poet being invited. _Ever._ Of course, none of us were really dating and had no one to invite. I wasn't dating Bella, but Alice had declared that they would be great friends and Alice had issued the invite. I was still confused over that one. I wondered how the others would feel about Bella's presence.

They had never invited anyone else to our little gatherings. They didn't have anyone to invite either. Rosalie fucked around, quite a bit actually. Emmett did the same, but I had a feeling if Rosalie ever indicated any interest, he'd be done with that in a heartbeat. Alice and Jasper had just sort of always been a couple, and though Alice wasn't an "official" Poet in one sense, she was still a part of us.

Hell, we'd been bound together by history and family ties since before any of us were walking or talking. I couldn't remember a time in my life when I hadn't had Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper, and Alice there.

But now Alice had, for reasons known only to her and _maybe_ Jasper, invited an outsider. What was up with that?

As the Saturday deadline of eight o'clock approached, I found myself getting tenser and tenser. I had no idea what to expect. How would Bella react to my friends? How would they react to her? Would they unwittingly let more information slip about our ties to one another than I was ready to reveal? And what did it matter if they did? Would they embarrass me?

I groaned even as I asked myself that question because I already knew the answer. Of course they would.

Emmett was the first to arrive, no big surprise there. If there was a party, Emmett was there. "Dude!" he said as he hugged me. "We've got to celebrate!"

Before I could ask what, specifically, we had to celebrate, Rosalie breezed in my door, not bothering to knock naturally. Sheba was eyeing the case of beer that Emmett had resting on his obscenely large shoulder. Rosalie gave Sheba a single sharp look when my dog looked like she wanted to jump. Rosalie intimidated Sheba. Hell, Rosalie intimidated _everyone_.

Then Alice and Jasper arrived just two minutes behind Rosalie, though they were polite enough to knock once before just opening the door for themselves. Sometimes having lifelong friends was a nuisance. They had all arrived thirty minutes early, mostly to start the interrogation.

"So, tell us about this Bella chick," Rose ordered, grabbing a beer from Emmett.

"She's hot," Emmett observed and Rose frowned.

"Edward likes her," Alice said, clapping her hands like a kid at Disneyworld.

"Leave him alone," Jasper said and I shot him a grateful look. He just grinned at me. "Besides, why annoy Edward when we can embarrass him once Bella arrives?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and when Alice looked away I ran my finger across my throat. _I'll get you…_ I mouthed.

He shrugged, clearly not concerned.

Ass.

Bella arrived a few minutes early with some beer and wine of her own. Emmett gave her a big hug and twirled her around like a child. Sheba renewed their acquaintance and Bella gave her a belly rub, which made Sheba stare at her with almost as much adoration as Emmett when he had beer. Alice squealed and gave Bella another life-threatening hug. I tried to tell Bella how sorry I was with a glance.

Bella just giggled and returned Alice's hug.

"Hi, I'm Jasper." Alice beamed at her sweetheart while he shook Bella's hand.

"Bella Swan." She turned to Rose. "And you must be Rosalie," Bella added. "Alice told me that you were a stunning beauty and I can see that, despite all of her enthusiasm, she doesn't exaggerate."

Just like that Rosalie's vanity was soothed and she bestowed a warm smile on Bella. I rolled my eyes. So typical. Once we were all settled onto chairs and chaises outside, drinking and conversation began in earnest. Sheba had settled herself at Bella's feet and apparently had no plans to move for the rest of the evening.

Surprisingly, Bella fit in quite nicely. She razzed Alice about her shopping habit after Alice expressed shock that Bella didn't actually _like_ shopping most of the time. From the look on Alice's face, Bella might have told her there was no Santa Claus. Rose and Bella discussed music, and it seemed they had similar tastes. That particular conversation got me a little tense, but Rose seemed to keep it on current favorites so I began to relax a little. Then they got to books and I took the chance to "out" Emmett as it were.

"Well, Bella, you know you've got a world famous author sitting right here with you."

Emmett shot me a look that should have made me burst into flames, like burning at the stake hot. Alice giggled, but mostly because she was already drunk. Jasper shook his head but didn't try to change the subject and sat back in his chaise with Alice in between his legs and resting against his chest. Jasper was a mellow drunk. Rose looked triumphant, as she always did when it came to causing Emmett some discomfort.

"What do you mean?" Bella asked, looking around at the group. "Who?"

I pointed to Emmett. "Him."

Emmett groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Really, Edward? You had to go there?"

I laughed and pointed again. "Well it's true, isn't it?"

Bella's expression just got more curious. "So…Emmett…anything you want to share?"

"Not really, no." Emmett crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

"Oh don't be so modest, Emmett," I mocked. "Tell her."

He shook his head again.

"Okay, if you don't, _I_ will!" I neatly evaded his punch and stood up to make my announcement, though I was a bit unsteady on my feet. "Bella, have you heard of those teenage vampire books. You know the one where the hero is all emo and self-sacrificing and the heroine is all sweet and innocent and adorable?"

Emmett sank down in his chair and closed his eyes tightly.

A light dawned in Bella's eyes and she stared at Emmett. "Really?" she breathed. Then she nudged him. "Emmett…are you really Emma DeClaire?"

"He really is!" I promised.

"But I've seen her picture on the book jackets," Bella said.

"So you've read them?" I challenged.

Bella immediately blushed and nibbled at her lower lip. "Maybe."

"Emmett, you've got a fan!" Rose teased.

Both Bella and Emmett glared at Rose.

"That's actually Emmett's Aunt Claire," I explained. "She does publicity tours for him, and he pays her. He doesn't want anyone to know he's the writer."

Bella leaned over and squeezed Emmett's big paw. I didn't like that at all. It wasn't supposed to go like this. She was supposed to make fun of him. That was the plan; a small bit of revenge on my part. "Emmett," she said. "I think you're very talented."

He opened his eyes carefully. "Really?"

She nodded and moved closer. Rose pressed her lips together. So _two_ of us weren't happy about this little development. "Truly, Emmett, I do," Bella promised.

"They're making the first one into a movie," Emmett announced. I gaped at him. "That's what I said we had to celebrate, dickhead," he added with a scowl at me. "But I wasn't going to announce it in front of just anyone." He gave Bella an apologetic smile. "Please, I'd like to keep this quiet if you don't mind. All of it, who writes the books, the movie…?"

"Of course, Em." Bella stroked his hand. _Em_? Really?

Rose frowned as she looked at Bella's hand. And Emmett's hand. And then at me. I knew I was in trouble before she even spoke.

"Did you know that our fathers were in a band together?" Rose asked suddenly.

Shit meet fan.


	15. Chapter 15: The Pawnshop Poets

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 15: The Pawnshop Poets**

"_**I cant remember the last time,  
that I wasn't drowning in all of this."**_

"_**Wasted" by Burn Season**_

_**Bella's POV**_

I stared at Rosalie. Then I looked at Edward. He wouldn't meet my eyes. I looked at Jasper who nodded. Alice had her eyes closed and was humming a tune that was vaguely familiar. Emmett grinned at me and raised his beer before gulping down half ot it.

"So…all of your fathers were in the band?" I asked, looking around.

"Not mine," Alice said softly, her eyes still closed. "But I grew up with all of them, so I'm sort of an honorary member of the Dead Poets."

"Dead Poets?" I was drunker than I thought. I couldn't follow the bizarre conversation. 

Emmett spoke. "It's sort of what we call ourselves." He pointed at Jasper and Rosalie and Edward. "We're the children of the Poets…and they're dead." He shrugged. "So…Dead Poets."

"Wait," I protested. "I thought your fathers were in a _band_? Were they poets or in a band."

Rosalie laughed but Edward just sank further into his seat. What was his problem? So their fathers had been in a band together. Lots of people were in bands at one time or another. Half of the kids in my college senior class probably had been in a band at one time or another.

Jasper finally commented. "Well, they were in a band together." He looked down at Alice and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "And they were the poets…the Pawnshop Poets to be precise. That was the name of their band."

"The Pawnshop Poets," I breathed. Edward's face tightened for a moment and then he gave a short, jerky nod of his head.

"Yeah, that's them," he admitted. Ah, he speaks.

A vague memory, something I'd read somewhere on Wikipedia or something like that when I was looking up local musicians and their work… Suddenly, I knew how Edward's father had died. And Emmett's…and Rosalie's and Jasper's… So many fathers dead, so many lives shattered. "The hotel," I said softly.

"A fire," Edward murmured in a distant voice. "In Chicago," he continued. " Faulty sprinkler system and the alarms went off just a little too late…"

Emmett looked sad for a moment, and the expression looked strange on his face. "My dad was so fucking stoked…" he murmured.

"Edward and Emmett stayed at my house when their moms were at work," Alice said. "My dad worked at the Budweiser plant, but we were neighbors."

"Our parents were all friends from way back," Rosalie supplied, leaning in a bit closer to Emmett. He reached up and took her hand.

"The Pawnshop Poets had just started to hit the big time. They had gotten a Grammy and had a brand new album that had already started zooming up the charts." This was from Jasper. "Everyone agreed that the Poets were the newest 'It' band. Lyrnyrd Skynyrd had forged a road into the market, and the Poets were going to make it a superhighway. Everyone knew it." Jasper voice was a low, melodic drawl. "Rolling Stone even said that the Poets would reinvent the genre of Southern Rock…give it new life." He spoke the words with a reverence that believers reserve when speaking of the one they worship.

Edward nodded. "And they would have."

"Except they never got the chance," Rosalie added. "They were on their way; they could see it just waiting up ahead." The others nodded.

"But then they went on their tour," Emmett said. "I can remember the day Dad left."

"It was raining," Rosalie said.

"And it was cold," Jasper added.

"My mom was bitching because my Dad wasn't wearing a jacket," Edward mused, more to himself than to us.

"I thought the bus was cool," Emmett remembered. "I wanted to hide in the luggage compartment at the bottom and go on tour with them."

"You tried," Jasper reminded him. "And your mom hauled you out by your big ears."

"I cried when the bus pulled out," Rosalie said. She nudged Emmett. "So did you."

"We all did," Jasper added. "But still, it was very exciting to be a part of it."

"You could tell…even as kids we could tell, that it was going to be a turning point for all of us," Rosalie told me. "It was like…seeing magic happen, going behind the scenes and knowing that the big trick was coming up and you knew exactly how it was done."

"The tour was going great, better than anyone expected. Sold out across the country." Edward spoke as if a dam had been removed, as if he was _compelled_ to speak of something he had held bottled up for too long. I knew that feeling.

"And then Chicago," Jasper finally said.

"And then Chicago," Emmett agreed.

"Your fathers," I began. I swallowed hard, not even remotely sure what to say.

Edward rubbed at his face. "See…they were all high school buddies and we'd all known each other for ever," he said and I knew his mind was far away. "They were more of a family than anything else."

"They started a band and since it kept them out of trouble so their parents didn't bitch too much." Emmett told me. "It was better than some other choices they could have made."

"None of them were too interested in school, so they'd already decided that college wasn't in the cards. Not that any of them had enough money to even think about that." It was Alice who had spoken. I could see that she was as much a part of this story as the others.

"They went through a lot of names, a lot of different styles of music. Finally, they decided to remain true to their roots, they were all just good ole Southern boys. Not redneck pricks, not like that. They just liked Elvis and Waylon and fishing and drinking beers with their buddies. They loved their mamas and drinking Jack on special occasions. They drove pick up trucks and went muddin'. They dated girls from their neighborhood, got married young and had babies. They worked hard at jobs that paid shit. Harmless kids who just wanted to play music they loved in their spare time." Edward sounded envious.

"They started getting more gigs, and soon they were getting enough to quit their day jobs. It was all word of mouth. They were playing bigger and better bars, but it was still strictly small time stuff. They got named the Pawnshop Poets when Emmett's grandfather teased Emmett's dad, Eli. All of their instruments had been purchased from pawn shops, they were dirt poor and that was the only way…" Jasper smiled as he spoke. "But they got what they needed and they made music like they wanted."

Edward laughed and shook his head. "Eli, Sr. started calling them the Pawnshop Poets as a joke, but it stuck." He looked at me. "And it was like the new name was the turning point, the last bit of magic needed to sort of_ push_ them into the spotlight. It shouldn't have worked, not with their kind of music. But it did, and it was like…wham! They opened for a big name and they had this new song and that was it. They were suddenly famous…or at least well on their way. They were making serious money for the first time in their lives."

"Girl by the River," I murmured. "That was the song." I remembered that much. The song about the boy finding the girl he loved skinny dipping in the river and how the sun made her flesh gold and her eyes shine bluer than a spring sky. It was a haunting song, equally sad and hopeful, moving in a way it was hard to describe. I was never sure if the boy and girl stayed together.

Edward grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah," he said. "That was it." He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "My dad wrote that one for my mom and then Emmett's dad wrote the rest of the songs for the album – the lyrics anyway. Emmett here gets that writing shit from his dad. Eli was a master with words, but he couldn't spell for shit." Edward laughed. "Neither can Emmett."

"Make fun if you want, but I'm the one banking the check for the movie rights," Emmett shot back. "Besides, that's what spell check is for."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Anyway, they were a good team. They worked well together without a lot of the tensions that some bands face."

"They actually liked each other, and were friends before they were a band, so that helped," Rosalie observed. "Their wives and kids were friends."

"I've got some of the rough drafts of their stuff, Emmett too, and it's hilarious looking at it." But Edward didn't laugh; he didn't even smile. Instead he just looked very, very sad. "Anyway, that song was the last missing piece and suddenly, the Pawnshop Poets weren't poor anymore. Everyone around here knew who they were. They were starting to really break on the national scene."

"And it was their first headlining tour," Jasper said. "They had done a tour before, but that time they were the opening act. Still, it had set the stage for what was to come. This tour though was very important for a lot of reasons. It was going to get their names out to the right people."

"It was working too," Alice said. "I've got the articles." She looked around. "We all do. The Poets were right there, poised for something fantastic."

"I was a kid, of course, and all I knew is that I got a dog." Edward smiled. "That was the best part as far as I was concerned."

"I got a new bike," Jasper remembered. "And my mom traded in her old car for a new Honda." He smiled. "She was pretty excited. It was her first new car."

I had the sense that I was listening to old legends, passed down through generations. It reminded of the Quileute legends, the ones they repeated over and over again, passing them down to the young ones so that they would not be forgotten.

This group, these Dead Poets, had grown up hearing the stories of parents they had lost. Their mothers had made sure that they had not forgotten, later they did the same for each other. And they had stuck together, supporting each other through the years that came after. Each of them had contributed to the histories in their own way, from their own perspective.

"The second tour started in January." Edward swallowed hard and Emmett clapped him on the back. It was the male equivalent of a hug. "By March, they were in Chicago."

I wanted to reach over and touch him, but the audience and his demeanor stopped me. I was almost sure he would flinch from the contact.

"It happened at night, so we were asleep." He drew a deep breath. "Early that morning, about three I guess, there was a knock on the door. It woke me up. My mom answered it and there was a friend standing there. It was Sly, another guy they went to high school with. He was a deputy by then, but they'd stayed in touch. Sly liked to come over and hang out and listen to them play. They were still just buddies drinking beer and having fun." Edward smiled at the memory. "Sly looked…I don't know how to describe it, but it was like my mom took one look at him and she knew…" I felt Edward shudder. "It was almost like she expected it, and later, I figured it out. Years later, but I finally knew…" Something new and disturbing entered his voice, a note of strange resolve. "I should have known-"

Emmett cut in. "So, the four of us lost our fathers in one night." He shot a hard look at Edward, who just closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch.

"I can't imagine…" I had no words to express. "I'm so…sorry."

Rosalie's face twisted for a moment. "Well, I mean yeah, it was hard, but we had each other, you know?" She whacked Emmett in the back of his head. "And even though Emmett lacks a few IQ points, he made sure no one picked on us."

"We stuck together," Jasper explained. "And so did our mothers."

"Their deaths contributed to their music's popularity for a while, and the royalties made sure that our families were okay financially." Rosalie sounded distant, cool.

"Well that and the life insurance policies Edward's father made everyone buy," Jasper noted dryly.

Edward grinned briefly. "Yeah, the old man had a knack for the financial stuff even though he didn't have any money at all for most of his life. The insurance company was reluctant to underwrite a life insurance policy for a bunch of musicians, so my father told them to simply add the clause that if they died of a drug overdose the policy would be null and void. Sort of like a suicide clause."

Jasper nodded with a grin of his own. "That shut the fuckers up."

"So…financially, our families were okay," Edward said.

But emotionally, they had been torn apart. I could still see it on their faces.

"To Eli McCarty," Emmett said, holding up his beer in a toast.

"To J.C. Whitlock," Jasper toasted in a raspy voice.

"To Jimmy Hale," Rosalie added.

"To Carl Joe Cullen," Edward contributed.

Alice spoke softly. "To the Pawnshop Poets."

I drank to them all.


	16. Chapter 16: And Then Nothing

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: Yes, I'm back to work on this one. It just wouldn't leave me alone**_**. **

**Chapter 16: And Then Nothing**

"So, don't ask me no questions  
And I won't tell you no lies  
So, don't ask me about my business  
And I won't tell you goodbye."

Don't Ask Me No Questions, written by Gary Rossington and Ronnie Van Zant, performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd

_**Edward's POV**_

One by one, the rest of them crashed. Jasper and Alice had set up an inflatable mattress in the living room, their usual plan when we partied like this. Rose curled up beside Emmett on the uncomfortable guest bed. I wondered idly when – _if_ - they'd finally end up fucking. They'd been dancing around it as long as I could remember. For some reason, Emmett was the one guy on the planet that Rose had never made a move on. She'd even once propositioned Jasper in a teasing way, offering to allow Alice into the act. They'd declined and cut Rose off from the tequila. One time, when we were still in high school, Rose had planted a kiss on me and put her hand down my jeans to cup my cock.

The kiss had been oddly unsettling, like kissing my sister. And my dick hadn't been impressed at all. We'd parted ways with the understanding that yeah...we weren't going there. Ever. But not once had Emmett ever hinted that she'd made a pass at him. Which was odd, since Rose pretty much hit on anything male, at least in theory. She liked to flirt, but that didn't mean she was willing to put out for anyone. Still, she put out a lot. Like a _lot_ a lot.

But not with Emmett.

With the wisdom that comes from vast quantities of alcohol, I asked myself if they realized they'd been in love since they'd gotten hormones and body hair. I shrugged. If they couldn't see it, then they didn't deserve it. Besides, I wasn't the love guru. I barely managed to have a sex life, much less a _love_ life. And lately, there hadn't been much of the sexing either.

Bella was on the deck. She hadn't had as much to drink as the rest of us and seemed relatively sober now. I had slowed down as the evening progressed, though I felt myself falling into that melancholic, sulking mood that came on me when I thought about my dad too much. I still missed him. It was like a phantom pain where a limb had gone missing. Missing him was just part of me.

It probably didn't help that I lived in a house surrounded by his stuff. But like my dad, music was part of me and I couldn't bear the thought his beloved instruments belonging to some stranger. When everything else in my life turned to shit, I found comfort in the feeling of drum sticks in my hands or the heavy, pulsing beat of the bass, or the lighter melodies I could coax from a piano or guitar. I'd even been known to try my hand at a fiddle. Violins were for pretty boys, down here they were fiddles, damn it. I had a natural affinity for music, and my mother still swears to this day that the first time Dad put the drum sticks in my hands, I had pounded out a recognizable beat though I wasn't even a year old yet.

My mom was full of shit sometimes. I loved her, but, come on.

I joined Bella at the railing, saw that she was sipping at a cola and listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the sad. "Thanks for having me tonight," she said quietly, without taking her eyes from the sea.

_Having her_. The phrase brought out all sorts of hidden longings, and my defenses were down because of the booze and the sadness the memories always left behind. She turned to look at me, and I saw something echoed in her dark eyes. The moonlight tried to hide the shadows, but I saw them.

"I'm really sorry about your fathers, all of them," she said softly and she put her hand on my arm. I didn't want to talk about my father. I didn't want to talk at all. I moved my mouth slowly to hers, ignoring the warning bells that was ringing in my head. I shouldn't be doing what I was going to do. It was beyond stupid. Beyond a bad idea.

Fuck it.

I gave her time to move away, to tell me no, to turn her head and give me a polite little brush off. Instead, she met me halfway. And fuck me if her lips weren't even better than I had imagined. She dropped the can of soda and jumped up so that her legs were wrapped around my waist and I wished I was magic and could make our clothes disappear in an instant. I settled for rubbing my cock against her pussy, feeling the heat of her even between the layers of cloth that separated us.

Her hands slipped up beneath my shirt and she traced patterns up and down my chest, murmuring her approval as she did so. Her lips and tongue wandered over the scruff of my face, which seemed to fascinate her for some reason.

I was breathing like a fucking race horse at the end of the Kentucky Derby. My hips were rocking against her and my hands were kneading her ass. She had a stellar ass. "I wanna fuck you," I confessed in a hoarse whisper.

She groaned but she didn't sound pissed. Maybe she liked the sound of that too. We fucked with our mouths for a little while longer. What our lips and tongues were doing went_ way_ beyond kissing. Then she pulled away with another groan, one I didn't like the sound of, she slid down my body to plant her feet on the deck. "I...I can't...I'm not...I'm not ready for this."

I wiped at my face and nodded. It was really better that we'd stopped. My dick was throbbing like a toothache, but a hard on had never killed anyone. I hoped. I leaned on the deck, mostly to hide my raging erection. Yeah, I'd been rubbing it against her, but the moment had passed and now it was just fucking awkward to be sporting wood.

"Wanna take a walk on the beach?" I asked, holding out my hand and giving her a smile to let her know there were no hard feelings. Shit. Hard. Stop it.

She smiled tentatively and then put her hand in mine. "Sure," she said.

_**Bella's POV**_

We had walked for a while, sometimes holding hands, sometimes just walking beside each other. At first, I was worried that he'd be pissed and think I was a tease. I wasn't. At least not on purpose. It was just that good sense had prevailed and I knew I had no business starting something – _anything_ – with Edward. I was too fucked up to be anybody's someone. So we walked in a surprisingly comfortable silence.

Then we had found a flat, dry patch of sand with a great view of the moon and some dunes that blocked some of the wind behind us. Edward didn't say a word, just plopped his sexy ass down on the sand and patted the space beside him.

We sat there and looked up at the moon. The silvery light stretched down to dance along Edward's perfect face, illuminating it like a Renaissance painting of a fallen angel. The sound of the ocean roaring was incredibly soothing, much like I imagined it was for babies in the womb. I could only imagine being lulled to sleep by that sound every night. I turned on my side and looked at Edward instead. "Tell me something no one else knows about you," I said quietly.

"Only if you go first," he offered. He had turned so that we were both on our sides, staring at each other.

I pause and then smiled. "Okay." I had to think about it. What could I disclose that was not _too_ revealing? "All right then," I finally said. "I've gone cliff diving and I liked the thrill of it."

His eyes widened for a moment. "Really?" He grinned. "I wouldn't have figured you for the type."

I shrugged. "I'm a complex and complicated woman, Mr. Cullen."

"That you are," he agreed in his smoke and silk voice.

"Your turn." I wanted to reach out and touch his face, his beautiful, sad face. But I didn't. I was going to be good. I was. I really was. I hoped.

His eyes searched mine, but I didn't know what he was looking for, or if he found it. "I'm scared of-" He stopped abruptly and shook his head. "When I die," he changed direction. "I want my ashes spread on the ocean."

I was the one searching _his_ eyes now but what I found puzzled me. "I'll remember that," I said teasingly, hoping to lighten the atmosphere between us.

To my surprise, he simply said solemnly, "Thanks, I'd appreciate that."

Then he rolled over and stared up at the night sky. I mirrored his motion, gazing up at the stars that seemed so close. "Do you…" Edward stopped and shook his head minutely, as if telling himself to shut up.

"What?" I prompted when it became clear he was not going to continue.

He shrugged, still looking up at the sky.

I gave him a nudge. "I'm waiting, Cullen."

He sighed and his lips pressed together, then they pursed as if he was considering how to phrase what he wanted to say. "Do you believe in Heaven?" he asked.

I had to admit, I would not have guessed _that_ was what he wanted to say in a million years. "Uh…" I was thrown. I had very specific beliefs, but I did not consider myself a religious person. I didn't go to church and I didn't label myself as anything in particular. It was a Swan trait as far as I could tell. We would have made horrible Puritans, too independent minded for blind obedience. "Yeah, I guess I do."

He turned then, leaning up on one elbow, his expression intense. "Do you really?" He seemed oddly excited by the notion.

I nodded and shrugged. "If I'm wrong, well then, it won't matter anyway, will it?"

"True…" he whispered. "And if you're right…"

"Then I get to say I told you so," I teased. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Do you believe in Heaven?"

He frowned. "I _hope_ there's a Heaven," he finally said. "I'm not sure if I believe there is."

"If not Heaven, then what?" I asked.

"That's it," Edward said. "If not Heaven, then...nothing?" He closed his eyes and sighed. "And which is worse, not knowing but hoping, or knowing that there's...nothing after our we blaze our way across the sky for a few, short years?"

"Maybe it's not about the length of the journey," I said. "Maybe it's about what we do along the way."

"Maybe," he said. Then he sat up and held out his hand. "Come on, let's get you back. You can crash on my bed. I'll take the couch."

He held my hand on the way back and when I left him at the door to his bedroom, I had to resist the urge to call him inside and ask him to share his bed with me.

_**Edward's POV**_

I woke up abruptly. Obviously, during the night I had been kidnapped by terrorists and they were currently engaged in interrogating me. It was some sort of water torture, possibly involving some poisonous gas. Then I realized that the torture was only Sheba's tongue and awesomely bad doggy breath. She had gotten impatient and needed to pee and be fed, in that order.

"Sorry," I mumbled and I stumbled toward my bedroom to take care of my own bladder's needs as soon as I opened the door to let Sheba out.

I let out a sigh of relief as I emptied my bladder. As I walked through my bedroom I heard a little snort of sound. I turned.

Bella. On my bed.

She was wearing a tank top and a tiny pair of Gator orange underwear. That was all. Nothing else. Not even a fucking pair of socks. I wasn't sure what the socks would have done to keep my dick from saluting her, but they might have looked so ridiculous that I'd have been able to resist getting hard.

Sure. That was the ticket. Socks. Worked every time.

Bella shifted a little, her hand moving down her belly. Down. Down some more. Uh oh. Now her fingers were toying with the elastic that ran across her belly. Holy fuck. Those slender fingers dipped below the cotton that covered her...

Shit.

If I hadn't been titanium already, that would have done the trick. Bella gave a little moan and her hand pretty much disappeared behind the orange cotton. Orange was suddenly my favorite fucking color in the universe.

And they _were_ Gator colors so there was no need to feel too guilty. They'd match quite nicely with my blue shorts. In a heap. On the floor.

As I watched like the dirty pervert I had become since Bella Swan had come into my life, her fingers began moving in soft circles. I could only imagine what she was touching done there with that gentle, swirling touch. I could touch it gently too. I would. For her.

I was pretty sure that I moaned. I_ knew_ my dick gave a good jerk in my shorts.

Then her hand sped up. I wanted to grab my dick. You know, just in case she woke up and saw me leering then she wouldn't feel so awkward. Because I'd be jerking off too. That was the polite thing to do, wasn't it?

She gave a sexy, breathy little moan. I could feel my balls drawing up close. There was a spot on my shorts where the pre-cum had announced my state to the world. I was beyond fucking aroused. I was pretty feral at that point.

Bella licked her lips and then said one more word before she exploded. "Edward..."

I almost came in my pants. The fact that I didn't was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Not kidding.

But I was no longer willing to bet that an erection had never killed a man.


End file.
